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EGAN 


BY 

HOLWORTHY  HALL 

Author  of  "Henry  of  Navarre,  Ohio," 
"The  Man  Nobody  Knew,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

1920 


COPTKIOBT,   1010,  1020 

By  HAROLD  E.  PORTER 


VAIL-BALLOU    COMPANY 

•INOMAMTOH  AND  NtW  rORft 


TO 

DARRAGH  DE  LANCEY 

AND 

MAJOR  ROBERT  S.  BOOTH 

AND 

THE  OFFICIAL  OFFICE  CIGAR 


8136167  * 


FOREWORD 

The  city  of  "  Plainfield,  Ohio,"  and  all  the  charac- 
ters pictured  in  this  book  are  purely  imaginary. 


EGAN 


IN  the  smoking  compartment  of  the  Cincinnati  Pull- 
man   there    were    three    men;    one    of    them   was 
Bronson  Egan,  and   for  that  reason  there  had 
been  little  conversation  for  the  past  half  hour. 

In  Egan's  favour,  it  must  be  understood  at  the  outset 
that  the  provocation  was  great,  and  that  ordinarily  he 
was  a  man  of  indulgent  tendencies,  capable  of  stoicism 
even  in  the  presence  of  those  who  infest  the  pathways 
of  the  returning  soldier  and  inquire  blithely  as  to  the 
personal  habits  of  Black  Jack  Pershing,  the  sensations 
of  the  human  organism  under  fire,  and  the  exact  pro- 
cedure by  which  the  soldier  won  his  decorations.  Nor- 
mally, he  could  have  withstood  any  amount  of  this  rail- 
way bromide;  and  if  his  mood  had  chanced'to  be  play- 
ful, he  would  probably  have  monopolized  the  entire  dis- 
course from  station  to  station,  creating  for  his  listeners 
a  vivid  series  of  extravaganzas,  based  on  pure  imagina- 
tion, coloured  with  wild  adventure,  absurd,  impossible, 
and  yet  to  be  believed  because  of  Egan's  drama  and 
convincingness,  and  to  be  excused  because  it  was  what 
the  listeners  liked  to  hear. 

Today,  however,  because  he  was  nearing  home,  his 
mood  was  far  less  playful  than  it  had  been  for  fifty 
months.  Indeed,  he  was  fundamentally  serious. 
Glory,  riches  and  a  girl  were  waiting  for  him,  and  there 


»  EGAN 

would  be  a  shadow  of  sadness,  too,  for  reminder  that 
the  world  wasn't  all  of  his  own  choosing.  He  found 
himself  dwelling  more  upon  the  sadness  than  upon  the 
happiness.  And  from  the  moment  of  his  entry  into  the 
smoking  compartment,  where  he  had  hoped  to  meditate 
in  peace,  or  at  least  without  direct  interruption,  he  had 
fallen  under  the  annoyance  of  a  cross-examination 
which  took  prompt  rise  from  the  fact  that  Egan  was 
still  in  uniform. 

He  had  answered,  courteously  enough,  every  question 
asked  of  him  by  a  fatuous  jewelry  salesman  in  black- 
and-white  checks  and  sundry  diamonds,  and  by  an 
older,  florid  gentleman  in  Palm  Beach  fabric  and  per- 
spiration, but  his  final  illustration  of  courtesy  under 
pressure  had  in  it  somewhat  of  the  smothering  quality 
of  a  fire-extinguisher.  As  a  result  of  it,  the  compart- 
ment was  flooded  with  refreshing  silence,  while  the  other 
occupants  stared  hard  at  Egan,  and  wondered,  with 
the  slightly  constrained  interest  of  stayers-at-home,  how 
much  of  a  part  Egan  himself  had  really  played  in  mak- 
ing the  world  safe  for  democracy,  and  for  them. 

Unconscious  of  their  none  too  deferential  scrutiny, 
Egan  lounged  in  the  window-comer,  gazing  straight  out 
at  the  level  Ohio  landscape,  and  rolling  between  his 
thumb  and  forefinger,  absent-mindedly,  an  unlighted 
cigarette.  His  expression  was  neither  sullen  nor  mel- 
ancholy ;  but  it  reflected  deep  introspection.  His  face, 
long  and  a  trifle  thin,  was  heavily  tanned;  and  at  the 
corners  of  his  unusually  bright  and  active  eyes  were 
myriads  of  tiny  wrinkles  like  those  which  aged  mariners 
wear  as  a  badge  of  long  devotion  to  their  calling.  The 
shape  of  his  head  was  boyish,  and  its  crown  of  thick 


EGAN  8 

brown  hair  was  juvenile  in  its  waywardness ;  but  his 
lower  face,  with  its  strong  and  well-formed  jaw  and  its 
rather  wide  mouth,  tight-lipped  at  the  present  moment, 
was  by  contrast  strikingly  mature.  By  the  calendar, 
he  was  in  the  medium  twenties ;  judged  by  the  standard 
of  war-experience,  he  was  a  time-worn  veteran. 

He  was  in  the  uniform  of  a  First  Lieutenant  of  the 
Air  Service,  and  looked  well  in  it.  Above  the  left-hand 
pocket  of  his  blouse  he  wore  the  tarnished  silver 
insignia,  the  wings,  shield  and  star,  of  a  Junior  Military 
Aviator;  and  just  beneath  it,  three  ribbon  bars  in  a 
mathematically  straight  line  —  the  familiar  narrow  red 
and  green  of  the  Croix  de  Ouerre;  the  less  known,  less 
frequent  tricolour  of  our  own  Distinguished  Service 
Cross,  and  a  third  bar  which  the  jewelry  salesman  had 
been  briefly  told  on  application,  represented  the  Croct 
al  Merito  di  Guerra  of  Italy.  On  the  left  sleeve  of 
Egan's  blouse  were  four  wide  gold  chevrons,  to  denote 
at  least  two  years  of  service  with  the  American  Ex- 
peditionary Force.  On  his  right  sleeve  he  wore  the 
wound  stripe. 

Now  the  jewelry  salesman  had  carefully  acquainted 
the  gentleman  in  the  Palm  Beach  suit,  during  the  course 
of  their  mutual  investigation  of  Egan,  with  his  own 
great  efforts  to  win  the  war,  and  the  heart-gnawing  fail- 
ure of  his  dearest  plans  for  still  more  heroic  and  self- 
sacrificing  labour  —  plans  which  were  permanently 
dampened  before  fulfilment  and  even  before  trial,  by  the 
cessation  of  hostilities.  He  had  regretted,  parentheti- 
cally but  with  good  voice,  that  the  armistice  had  been 
signed  before  his  number  was  reached  in  the  draft.  His 
disappointment  was  almost  greater  than  he  could  bear ; 


4  EGAN 

his  only  permanent  satisfaction,  he  said,  wagging  his 
head  mournfully,  was  in  his  consciousness  that  he  had 
bought  Liberty  Bonds  until  it  hurt  —  but  it  did  seem 
to  him  a  national  disgrace  that  McAdoo  hadn't  pro- 
tected the  market  so  that  a  patriot  wouldn't  have  had 
to  sell  out  at  94.36  in  order  to  get  his  money  back. 
He  had  bought  three  thousand  dollars'  worth,  he  said, 
and  if  any  man  questioned  the  statement  he  could  pro- 
duce the  receipt  of  the  bank  from  which  he  had  bought 
them,  and  also  of  the  broker  through  whom  he  had  sold 
them.  In  fact,  he  had  them  in  his  pocket  now,  and  if 
anybody  cared  to  look  at  them  .  .  . 

Palm  Beach  had  glanced  at  Egan's  shoulders,  and  re- 
marked that  Ordnance  had  thrice  offered  him  a  lieuten- 
ant-colonelcy:  but,  like  Caesar,  he  had  thrice  refused 
the  kingly  crown  because  it  didn't  fit  him.  He  had 
reasoned  that  a  civilian  could  do  so  much  more  than  an 
officer  to  speed  up  production  that  it  was  a  deed  of 
actual  patriotism  to  decline.  It  would  have  been  a 
pleasant  honour,  and  a  pleasant  remembrance,  but 
after  all,  a  man's  duty  to  his  country  was  as  he  saw  it, 
and  he  had  simply  obeyed  his  conscience.  But  it  had 
made  him  very  tired,  after  the  work  he  had  done  and 
the  honour  he  had  refused,  to  have  the  Provost-Marshal 
Greneral  draft  the  majority  of  his  skilled  mechanics,  and 
then  have  the  Chief  of  Ordnance  expect  him  to  produce 
at  constantly  increasing  speed.  The  Government 
should  have  struck  a  balance,  somehow. 

"  Couldn't  you  train  women  .'*  "  Checks  and  Diamonds 
had  inquired  pertly.  "  Or  wouldn't  they  wear  overalls, 
or  what?     My  wife  read  in  a  magazine  somewhere — '* 

"  Training  be  hanged !     /  don't  run  any  trade  school 


/ 


EGAN  5 

—  that's  not  in  my  line !  There  wasn't  time,  anyway. 
That  was  up  to  the  Department  of  Labor.  They  had  a 
Committee  on  dilution  and  training,  and  they  started 
out  to  make  a  survey  of  what  the  country  needed,  be- 
fore they'd  begin  to  train  anybody,  and  the  war  was 
over  before  the  survey  was.  Have  'em  expect  me  to 
lose  all  my  best  men  in  the  draft,  and  fuddle  around  to 
get  priorities  on  materials,  and  spend  all  my  profits  on 
bonds,  and  pay  big  taxes,  and  then  run  a  school  for 
women  —  or  men  either  —  besides?  That's  too  much 
of  a  good  thing.  No  —  I  had  to  cut  down  the  output. 
I  was  sorry,  but  what  could  you  do?  You  can't  make 
a  toolmaker  out  of  a  coalheaver.     It  can't  be  done." 

The  salesman  had  cocked  his  head  wisely.  "  Well,  if 
I'd  been  in  your  place,  I'd  have  trained  women.  I  hear 
they  do  more  work  for  less  money.  Over  in  England 
they  — " 

The  florid  gentleman  made  a  sweeping  gesture  of  con- 
tempt. 

"  England !  Yes,  of  course  they  did.  They  had  to. 
That's  different.  The  war  was  close  to  'em.  And 
over  in  England  they  didn't  have  any  deferred  classifi- 
cation in  the  draft  on  the  ground  of  dependents,  either. 
Every  man  was  called  on  to  do  one  thing  or  the  other. 
Work  or  fight.  And  if  you  worked  instead  of  fighting, 
it  was  only  real  work  that  counted.  Something  that 
was  needed  for  the  nation.  They  said  marriage  was 
only  an  accident,  and  hadn't  anything  to  do  with  war, 
so  they  took  married  men  like  you  in  the  army,  and  paid 
his  family  compensation.  Women  had  to  go  to  work  to 
fill  those  men's  places.  And  here  in  America  we  had 
ten  million  able-bodied  men,  deferred  for  dependents, 


6  EGAN 

in  Tiow-essential  occupations.  So  when  you  say  what 
you'd  have  done,  and  when  you  begin  to  quote  Eng^ 
land—" 

The  jewelry-salesman  made  a  strategic  retreat. 

"  Well,  I  wouldn't  'a  cared  much  if  I  had  been 
drafted.  I  bet  I'd  'a  got  to  be  an  officer  sooner  or 
later.  Why,  between  you  an'  me,  brother,  I'd  enlisted 
if  Crowder  hadn't  shut  down  the  bars  on  enlistments 
while  the  draft  was  goin'  on." 

"  Very  creditable  idea,"  Palm  Beach  had  nodded. 
"  But  as  I  recall  it,  the  bars  weren't  ever  put  down  on 
the  Tank  Corps,  or  Motor  Transport,  or  — " 

"  I  wanted  the  Infantry,"  Checks  and  Diamonds  had 
inserted  hastily.  *'  And  sweatin'  inside  them  Tanks 
ain't  what  I  call  a  popular  indoor  sport  with  mCy 
brother.  If  I'm  gonna  die,  I'm  gonna  die  in  the  open 
air.  I  was  in  the  Home  Guard  out  our  place,  and  say ! 
brother,  if  that  comp'ny  of  ours  ever  got  drafted  in  a 
body,  we'd  'a  made  them  Marine  Devil-Dogs  look  like  a 
lot  o'  old  women  runnin'  away  from  a  garter  snake. 
That's  how  much  I  was  a  draft-dodger,  if  anybody 
wants  to  know  it !  " 

He  had  looked  out  from  under  his  eyebrows  at  Egan, 
but  Egan,  snatching  advantage  of  the  momentary  re- 
spite, was  lost  in  retrospection  and  resolve. 

"  I  gave  a  hundred  to  the  National  War  Work 
crowd,  too ;  not  a  lot,  but  — "  He  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders, to  express  his  full  measure  of  devotion. 

The  florid  gentleman  was  recessively  amused.  "  I 
dare  say  you  helped  along  the  Red  Cross,  too." 

**  Yes,  I  gave  to  that,  too,"  the  salesman  had  con- 
fessed, fingering  his  cufF-links  affectionately. 


EGAN  7 

"  And  you  invested  pretty  heavily  in  War  Savings 
Stamps,  most  likely?  " 

"  Did  I !  "  The  salesman  had  looked  again  at  Egan, 
and  resumed  the  inquisition.  "  Say,  Major,"  said 
Checks  and  Diamonds  brightly.  "  How  do  you  fellers 
that's  been  Over  There  feel  about  the  fellers  that  wasn't 
lucky  enough  to  get  acrost?  Now  you're  back,  I  mean. 
My  friend  here  — "  at  which  the  florid  gentleman 
winced  —  "  My  friend  here  and  I've  been  talkin'  it 
over  an'  we  kinder  wonder  if  you  fellers  think  a  man  that 
wasn't  lucky  enough  to  get  acrost  hasn't  done  nothin'  to 
help  win  the  war;  or  whether  or  not  you  feel  as  if  we 
fellers  over  here  was  doin'  our  bit  to  help  you  fellers  put 
it  acrost,  and  doin'  all  we  could  when  we  stuck  on  our 
jobs,  an'  bought  the  bonds  an'  W.  S.  S.  to  ^nance  the 
war,  an'  chipped  in  for  the  Red  Cross  an'  the  Jewish  Re- 
lief Fund  an'  so  on ;  or  whether  or  not  you  fellers  think 
we—" 

At  that  juncture,  Egan  goaded  beyond  his  ordinary 
indulgence  had  turned  on  him,  and  in  his  well-bred, 
slightly  throaty  voice,  with  the  very  smallest  imagin- 
able suggestion  of  remote  Celtic  ancestry  in  it,  inter- 
rupted the  oily  flow  of  interrogation.  "  Why,  those  of 
us  who  were  overseas  —  not  that  I  have  any  right  to 
act  as  spokesman ;  but  this  is  my  own  private  opinion  — 
those  of  us  who  were  overseas  think  exactly  as  you  do 
over  here.  There  was  work  to  be  done  everywhere, 
sir.  Different  in  kind,  but  equally  important.  And 
one  can  generally  tell  pretty  accurately  whether  or 
not  a  man  did  his  share  of  that  work  —  by  the  charac- 
ter of  his  explanations,  sir." 

It  was  immediately  subsequent  to  this  reply  that  the 


8  EGAN 

conversation  had  languished ;  and  that  Egan  had  en- 
joyed nearly  half  an  hour  of  blessed  peace. 

The  jewelry  salesman  now  exhaled  wearily,  sniffed  his 
independence,  fondled  his  scarf-pin,  and  addressed  the 
florid  gentleman  in  the  Palm  Beach  suit. 

"  Goin'  to  Cinci?  " 

"  Plainfield." 

Checks  and  Diamonds  honoured  Plainfield  by  a  gra- 
cious inclination  of  the  head. 

"  That's  a  nice  little  town,  brother.     Yours?  " 

"  No ;  I've  got  some  business  connections  there." 

"That  so?     Who  with?" 

The  florid  gentleman,  becoming  more  reserved  as  the 
inquiry  became  more  personal,  responded  vaguely. 

"  Oh,  I'm  doing  business  with  a  lot  of  different 
people." 

Egan  sat  up,  and  lighted  his  cigarette.  His  attitude 
was  more  unbending,  his  demeanour  more  suggestive  of 
interest,  than  at  any  time  since  luncheon;  his  com- 
panions, however,  remaining  in  mind  of  the  joint  slur 
he  had  put  upon  them,  ignored  him. 

"Well,  I  make  Plainfield  myself  every  other  trip. 
Yes,  it's  a  nice  little  town.  She's  a  grower,  too.  Lot 
o'  changes  there  in  the  last  three  four  years.  I  got 
a  lot  o'  friends  there,  myself.  I'm  quite  well  acquainted 
there.  Especially  with  the  politicians.  Good,  solid, 
substantial  men  like  Eddie  Macklin,  for  instance  .  .  ." 
He  paused  for  effect.     "  You  know  Eddie  Macklin  ?  " 

The  florid  gentleman  waved  his  hand,  perhaps  to 
imply  that  a  mere  Macklin  or  two  was  hardly  worth 


EGAN  9 

accounting  for,  perhaps  to  ward  away  a  draught  of 
superheated  air  from  the  open  window. 

"  I've  met  him." 

"  Vm  an  intimate  friend  of  his."  The  florid  gentle- 
man's eyebrows  went  down  a  trifle  at  this.  "  I  got  a 
cousin's  a  big  lawyer  in  Dayton  knows  him,  an'  I  met 
him,  through  him.  My  home's  Cleveland.  Nice,  bright 
feller,  Macklin  is.  Straight  like  a  string.  You  know 
he'U  prob'ly  be  the  next  Mayor,  don't  you?  " 

"  I'd  heard  it  spoken  of."  The  gentleman  in  the 
Palm  Beach  suit  looked  curiously  at  Egan,  who  had 
transferred  his  attention  from  the  landscape  to  the 
conversation.     "What's  your  cousin's  name.'*" 

"  Kaplan.     Sam  Kaplan." 

"  So  ?  "  The  florid  gentleman  wavered ;  yielded ; 
burned  his  bridges.  "  I  know  Sam  Kaplan  pretty  well 
myself.     My  own  home's  in  Dayton." 

The  salesman's  elbow  served  as  punctuation  for  his 
philosophy. 

"  Is  that  sof  By  golly,  it  w  a  small  world,  when  you 
come  to  think  of  it.  Ain't  it  the  truth?  To  think  of 
you  and  me  travellin'  along  here  all  this  time  without 
hardly  sayin'  a  word  to  each  other  and  both  of  us 
knowin'  Sam,  an'  Eddie  Macklin!  Well,  what  d'you 
know  about  that!  It  certain'y  is  a  small  world, 
brother.     How'd  you  ever  happen  to  know  Sam?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon."  Egan  had  leaned  out 
towards  them,  and  was  speaking  equitably  to  the  space 
halfway  between  his  fellow-travellers.  "  But  is  that  by 
any  chance  the  same  Eddie  Macklin  who  used  to  be  a 
clerk  in  Judge  Perkins'  office  in  Plainfield?" 


10  EGAN 

The  jewelry  salesman  surveyed  him  impudently. 
"  Yeah.  He's  city  counsel.  They're  gonna  run  him 
for  Mayor." 

Egan  smiled  faintly,  and  relapsed  into  his  corner. 
"  As  you  say,  gentlemen,  the  town  has  changed  .  .  ." 

They  looked  uncomprehendingly  at  him  for  a  moment. 
Then  the  florid  gentleman  began  to  smile.  Checks  and 
Diamonds  hesitated  with  the  annoyance  of  a  slow-wit 
who  detects  a  winged  thrust  without  actually  feeling  it, 
and  resumed  his  questioning. 

"  How'd  you  ever  happen  to  know  Sam,  brother?  ** 

*'  Why,  as  it  happens,"  said  the  florid  gentleman, 
**  he's  represented  me  once  or  twice  in  some  small  mat- 
ters —  that's  all.     He's  not  my  regular  attorney." 

**  Oh !     And  your  name .''  " 

"  Henderson,"  said  the  florid  gentleman,  reluctantly. 
His  manner  made  it  evident  to  Egan  that  he  didn't 
fraternize  by  choice  with  men  of  the  jewelry  salesman's 
importunities,  but  it  was  also  evident  that  he  was  study- 
ing the  salesman  carefully.  Egan,  idly  attentive, 
guessed  that  the  florid  gentleman  was  sufficiently 
anxious  for  Sam's  support,  or  good  opinion,  to  make  it 
worth  his  while  to  appease  the  curiosity  of  Sam's  ob- 
noxious cousin. 

"  Not  Martin  Henderson !  " 

"  Yes." 

Egan  stiflTened.  The  salesman  gulped,  shot  his 
cuff^s,  and  twisted  around  so  as  to  face  the  florid 
gentleman  squarely. 

"  Well,  wha'd'  you  know  about  that!  So  you're 
Henderson!  Martin  Henderson!  Well,  I'll  be 
damned !     By  golly,  I  will  be  damned !     You  talk  about 


EGAN  11 

your  small  worlds !  Why,  man  alive,  it  was  Tne  — " 
He  rapped  himself  smartly  on  the  chest,  and  repeated. 
"  Man  alive,  it  was  me  that  carried  the  message  to 
Garcia!     Get  me?  " 

"  Message  to  .  .  ."  Palm  Beach  was  interested,  but 
out  of  his  depth. 

The  salesman  glanced  sidelong  at  Egan.  He  shot 
his  cuffs  once  more  — purple  striped  cuffs  they  were, 
and  very  decorative, —  and  bounced  forward  to  the  edge 
of  his  seat. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Henderson,  I'm  Charlie  Feinberg. 
Didn't  Sam  tell  you?  No?  Why,  the  old  tightwad! 
Why,  I'm  the  man  brought  him  the  news  he  passed  on  to 
you  the  same  day  —  and  took  you  to  Plainfield  on  the 
3.14  milk  train  that  same  night!  I  called  it  the  mes- 
sage to  Garcia  like  the  story  Albert  Hibbard  wrote  up 
in  a  circular  for  free  distribution  to  all  the  members  in 
my  lodge.  I  was  the  man  on  the  job  —  get  me?  I  was 
in  Plainfield,  and  somebody  wants  me  to  do  something, 
y'understand,  an'  I  go  do  it.  Get  me?  That  was  to 
Sam,  an'  then  him  an'  you  got  together,  an'  that  was 
all  there  was  to  it.     By  golly,  I  — " 

The  reaction  of  the  florid  gentleman  was  three-fold. 
He  was  taken  by  surprise,  placed  on  guard,  and  made 
conciliatory,  all  at  the  same  time.  "  Feinberg?  No, 
Sam  didn't  tell  me.  I'm  glad  to  meet  you  just  the 
same.     And  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you  .  .  ." 

Checks  and  Diamonds  laughed  exuberantly,  and 
caressed  his  scarf-pin  in  a  tender  passion  of  pride. 
"Well,  I'm  certain'y  glad  to  meet  you.  .  .  .  Oh! 
Vurry  kind  of  j'ou,  I'm  sure.  That  looks  like  a  good, 
strong  cigar.  .  .  .  Well,  sir,  I'm  awful  disappointed 


12  EGAN 

the  deal  worked  out  the  way  it  did,  but  you  can't  blam 
nobody  for  that." 

The  florid  gentleman  was  beetle-browed.  "  No  — 
no." 

"  I  sh*d  say  not.  Trust  me,  brother.  Of  course  i 
might  kind  of  startle  you,  if  you  didn't  know  I  wa 
mixed  up  in  it,  but  you  gotta  remember  I'm  a  friend  o 
Eddie's  and  a  cousin  of  Sam's.  Strictly  business, 
carried  the  message  to  Garcia,  for  a  favour,  y'under 
stand,  and  that's  as  far  as  it  goes.  .  .  .  Much  oblige* 
for  the  cigar,  Mr.  Henderson."  He  snapped  a  gener 
ous  section  from  the  perfecto,  and  kindled  it  withou 
removing  the  band.  "  And  anything  I  can  ever  di 
for  you — " 

*'  Thank  you,  Mr.  Feinberg ;  I'll  bear  it  in  mind.' 

Checks  and  Diamonds  wriggled  importantly. 

"  S'pose  it  would  of  made  any  difference  if  it  htu 
gone  through?  " 

"  It  might.     It  might." 

"  Well,  I  guess  the  old  man  never  knew  what  hi 
him,  did  he?" 

"  No.  They  said  he  died  in  his  sleep.  It  was  bette 
that  way,  I  suppose." 

"  That's  right.     What  about  his  boy?  "       . 

"  I  imagine  he's  still  in  the  army." 

The  salesman  puffed  appreciatively,  and  squinted  a 
the  band  of  the  cigar.  "  Eddie  told  me  about  him 
Said  he  used  to  be  about  as  cocky  as  they  grow 
Thought  he  owned  the  whole  earth  and  a  fence  aroun^ 
it.  Some  merry  little  surprise  when  he  comes  home 
all  right,  all  right."  He  laughed  shriUy.  «  Well,  't' 
a  great  life  if  you  don't  weaken.     Only  I  guess  he'] 


EGAN  13 

have  to  do  som6  weakenin'.  Not  that  I  got  anythin' 
against  him  pers'nally,  but  after  what  Eddie  said,  I 
guess  it  ought  to  do  him  good.  The  Egan  Company's 
down  an'  out,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Henderson.     "  It  certainly  is." 

"  No,  it  isn't !  "  This  was  from  the  young  officer 
by  the  window,  and  the  swell  of  his  voice  was  such  that 
both  the  other  men  sat  up,  instinctively  defensive.  The 
young  man  was  angry,  and  there  was  no  mistaking  it. 
He  showed  it,  and  he  intended  to  show  it.  That  firm 
jaw  of  his  was  pushed  slightly  outward,  his  blue  eyes 
had  little  dancing  points  of  light  in  them,  and  one  of 
his  big  hands,  resting  on  his  knee,  was  doubled,  auto- 
matically. "  Listen  here !  I've  let  you  people  talk  — 
I've  given  you  all  the  rope  jou  need  —  I  haven't  any 
idea  who  your  friend  Sam  is,  or  what  you  mean  by  your 
message  to  Garcia,  or  any  of  the  rest  of  your  veiled 
secrets,  and  I  don't  want  to  know;  but  I've  just  waked 
up  to  the  fact  that  you've  mentioned  my  father,  and 
my  father's  business,  and  myself.     You  — " 

"Your  father!"  gasped  the  jewelry  salesman,  sink- 
ing into  his  chair,  and  sending  the  florid  gentleman  an 
ocular  appeal  for  help. 

"  Oh !  "  said  the  big  man,  awkwardly.  "  Your  fa- 
ther! Then  you  must  be  Bronson  Egan,  eh.'*  That's 
rather  embarrassing  for  all  of  us.  I  didn't  recognize 
you  —  don't  think  I  ever  had  the  pleasure.  Well,  then 
you  know  who  /  am  —  Henderson  of  Dayton." 

"  I've  heard  of  you."  Aroused  by  the  memory  that 
his  father  had  despised  and  distrusted  Henderson  more 
than  any  other  man  in  the  Middle  West,  he  swung  to- 
wards Weinberg.     "  And  whoever  you  are,  let  me  tell 


14  EGAN 

you  right  here  and  right  now  I'm  still  quite  cocky 
enough  to  resent  the  use  of  my  own  name,  or  my  fa- 
ther's, the  way  you  used  them,  in  a  public  place  by 
anybody  of  your  calibre  —  or  considerably  bigger." 

"  Oh,  come  now,  Egan  — "  began  the  florid  gentle- 
man, pacifically. 

Egan,  greatly  to  the  relief  of  the  salesman,  who  was 
sucking  his  cigar  nervously,  and  watching,  cat-eyed, 
for  developments,  pivoted  towards  Henderson. 

"  Well?     Any  comments?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Henderson.  "  Calm  down  a  little.  You 
take  offence  too  quick.  Mr.  Feinberg's  repeated  what 
some  one  said  to  him  about  you,  and  that's  as  far  as 
it's  gone.  He  didn't  express  his  own  opinion,  did  he? 
It's  too  bad,  but  after  all,  nobody's  said  anything  that 
an  apology  won't  cover."  The  salesman,  picking  up 
his  cue,  darted  feverishly  into  the  debate. 

"  Oh,  I  apologize  —  certain'y.  I  apologize. 
Hadn't  any  idea  who  you  were,  y'lmderstand.  I  cer- 
tain'y apologize." 

Egan  had  discs  of  wrath  in  both  his  cheeks. 

"  And  for  your  own  special  benefit,  Mr.  Henderson, 
I'll  remind  you  that  the  Egan  Company  never  had  to 
take  any  back  talk  from  anybody  in  your  outfit,  from 
yourself  down  —  and  it's  too  late  to  begin  now.  Fur- 
thermore, if  you've  got  any  personal  remarks  to  make 
about  either  my  father  or  myself,  or  about  our  business 
either,  why,  now's  the  time  to  make  'em !  " 

The  florid  gentleman,  deducing  from  certain  land- 
marks that  his  destination  was  near,  stood  up,  swaying 
to  the  motion  of  the  train.  He  looked  down  at  Egan, 
and  frowned;  looked  towards  the  salesman,  and  con- 


EGAN  15 

tinued  to  frown.  "  He  don't  know  it  yet,"  he  said  to 
Feinberg ;  and  then  to  Egan,  kindly :  "  I'm  awful  sorry 
this  happened,  son.  It  only  goes  to  show  it  ain't  safe 
to  talk  anything  but  crops  and  Ford  stories  on  a  rail- 
road train,  or  you  step  on  somebody  else's  toes.  I'd 
give  a  thousand  dollars  cash  if  this  hadn't  happened. 
But  you're  taking  it  too  hard.  You  haven't  been  in- 
sulted.    You  — " 

Egan  was  also  on  his  feet,  rigid. 

"  I  want  to  know  what  you  mean,  then,  by  saying 
our  company's  'down  and  out'.''  That's  too  old  a 
trick  of  yours  to  get  away  with.  Even  if  I  passed  over 
what  you  said  about  ine  —  which  I  don't  intend  to." 
This  last  was  for  Feinberg,  who  shrivelled  under  it. 

*'  He  don't  know  it  yet,"  said  Henderson  once  more 
to  the  jewelry  salesman,  and  again  to  Egan,  most 
soothingly :  "  Youngster  —  I  like  you.  I  do  ;  hon- 
est. Right  off  the  bat.  You're  a  bom  scrapper  — 
just  Hke  your  old  man.  You  don't  know  when  you're 
licked.  If  I  had  a  boy  myself,  I  hope  he'd  stand  up 
for  me  the  same  way.  Only  this  time  you're  on  the 
wrong  track.  While  you've  been  away,  a  lot  of  things 
have  happened.  If  you  don't  know,  why,  I  haven't  got 
time  to  tell  you  now,  and  you  wouldn't  believe  me  any- 
way. It's  no  particular  pleasure  for  me  to  be  the  one 
to  spring  it  on  you.  Still,  if  you've  got  to  have  it 
now  —  why,  the  war's  over,  and  the  Egan  Company 
went  with  it.  I'm  surprised  Judge  Perkins  didn't  let 
you  know  it.  Oh,  I  know  you  won't  believe  me;  you're 
too  mad  now  to  believe  anything  —  but  ask  the  first 
baggage-smasher  you  see  at  the  Plainfield  station  when 
you   get    off   the   train.     Ask   anybody.     It's     public 


16  EGAN 

information.  Or,  if  you'll  take  my  advice,  you'll  make 
for  Judge  Perkins'  office  the  first  thing  and  ask  him." 

Egan  wavered,  staring.  His  pupils  were  very  wide. 
He  spoke  as  though  partly  stunned. 

"  You  .  .  .  you're  not  trying  to  tell  me  it's  failed ! 
Nonsense,  man,  nonsense.  Don't  you  suppose  I'd  have 
heard  about  it  ?     I  — " 

"  No,  not  simply  failed."  The  big  man  stooped  over 
the  basin,  and  allowed  cold  water  to  trickle  over  his 
thick  wrists ;  he  held  them  up,  dripping.  "  Not  simply 
failed,  Egan.  I'm  afraid  it's  dead.  Permanently. 
Lord  knows  I  wouldn't  have  picked  out  the  job  of  tell- 
ing you  —  and  I'm  mighty,  mighty  sorry  this  had  to 
happen  this  way.  But  I  ought  to  know,  if  anybody 
does.  I  took  over  some  of  its  contracts  myself,  and 
I'm  coming  over  to  Plainfield  now  to  bid  on  some  of 
the  machinery.  .  .  .  Don't  think  everybody  that  don't 
agree  with  you's  a  liar,  Egan.     It  don't  pay." 

The  Lieutenant  inspected  him  critically,  moved  to- 
wards the  doorway,  paused,  came  back  a  step.  "  All 
right,"  said  Egan  dispassionately.  "  And  while  you're 
about  it,  you  might  get  yourself  out  of  the  habit  of 
spreading  idiotic  rumours  about  your  competitors. 
That  doesn't  pay,  either." 

"  Egan !  Be  reasonable.  Would  I  have  any  sense 
to  start  any  rumour  now  —  ten  minutes  from  the  Plain- 
field  station  —  and  to  you.'*  I'm  not  trying  to  pick  a 
quarrel  with  you.     I'm  trying  to  do  the  opposite." 

"  Well,  you're  not  succeeding."  He  shot  a  glance 
at  the  leering  salesman,  who  promptly  froze.  "  As  for 
you,  Feinberg  —  just  let  me  tell  you  one  thing:  I 
know    your    breed.     Infantry!     Bah!  .  .  .  you    mean 


EGAN  17 

Nursery!  I'm  sorry  you're  too  small  to  lick.  But  I 
know  just  exactly  what  to  expect  from  you,  and  I'm 
going  to  discount  it.  You'd  better  listen.  ...  If  I 
hear  any  of  your  joyous  ribald  laughter  coming  out  of 
this  compartment  after  I've  gone,  I'm  coming  back  here 
and  make  you  damn  well  regret  it.     Is  that  clear?  " 

"  Why,  Egan,"  said  the  florid  gentleman,  in  dis- 
turbed protest.  **  I  never  knew  your  family  had  a 
reputation  for  beating  up  men  under  your  size.  He's 
apologized  once.     Calm  down." 

Egan,  in  the  doorway,  laughed  very  naturally,  al- 
though his  pupils  were  still  dilated  with  the  astonish- 
ment and  apprehension  he  was  trying  so  diligently  to 
conceal. 

"  I  wouldn't  fight  him,"  he  explained.  "  I'd  spank 
him." 

He  went  out;  the  salesman  sat  motionless  for  a  mo- 
ment, cackled  suddenly,  clamped  his  mouth  tight  shut. 
"  By  golly !  D'you  .  .  .  d'you  s'pose  he  would  —  the 
big  bluff?  " 

"  Don't  worry  —  he'd  love  to,"  said  Henderson  dryly. 
"  Lord,  they  were  a  fighting  pair,  those  Egans.  The 
Old  Man  as  quiet  as  a  mouse,  and  the  boy  as  quiet  as 
a  cyclone.  Sort  of  takes  the  electricity  out  of  the  room 
when  he  goes,  doesn't  it?  And,  say  ...  I  wouldn't 
,  make  any  funny  faces  at  him  out  of  the  car  window, 
either,  if  I  were  in  your  place ;  he'd  come  right  through 
it  to  get  at  you.  .  .  .  Queer  I  hadn't  recognized  him. 
Never  saw  him  before  in  my  life,  but  when  he  told  me 
who  he  was  — " 

The  salesman  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  So  that's  the  guy  that  everybody's  sorry  for,  is 


18  EGAN 

it?"  He  drew  a  still  longer  breath.  "Well,  I  ain't. 
I'm  glad  of  it !     I'm  glad  of  it !     The  great  big  stiff !  " 

"  What  I'm  glad  of,"  said  Mr.  Henderson,  very  seri- 
ously, "  is  that  you  didn't  talk  any  more  than  you  did. 
The  best  thing  you  can  do  —  if  you'll  excuse  my  say- 
ing so  —  is  to  keep  your  mouth  shut  in  public  about 
that  whole  transaction.  If  you're  a  friend  of  Sam's 
and  Eddie's  —  you  will.  You  saw  what  it  got  you 
into,  didn't  you?  Call  it  a  cheap  lesson.  Forget  it. 
Because,  if  the  story  ever  leaks  out,  I'll  know  who  to 
blame." 

Here  the  salesman  became  almost  telescopically  small. 
**  All  right.  All  right,  Mr.  Henderson.  I  only  thought 
seeing  it  was  you  — " 

Henderson  shook  his  head.  **  Forget  it.  Well : 
I'm  getting  off  here  —  look  me  up  some  time  when 
you're  in  Dayton." 

The  jewelry  salesman  presently  moved  to  the  vacant 
seat  by  the  window,  and  waited,  tense,  until  Egan  ap- 
peared on  the  platform ;  waited  then,  growing  tenser 
every  moment,  until  Egan's  broad  back  was  turned,  and 
Egan  was  fully  twenty  feet  away,  and  through  the  gates. 

"  You  great  big  stiff,  you ! "  said  Mr.  Feinberg,  ar- 
ticulating very  clearly.  "  You  great  big  bluff !  You 
great  big  bum  !  Lowlife !  You  couldn't  lick  a  postage 
stamp !  I  bet  you  bought  them  ribbons  in  a  depart- 
ment store,  you  big  piece  of  Limburger  cheese !  "  He 
inhaled  exultantly;  honour  was  satisfied;  he  was 
avenged.  "  I'm  glad  of  it,"  said  Checks  and  Dia- 
monds, referring  oracularly  to  his  recent  dialogue  with 
Palm  Beach  and  perspiration.  "  Schwein-hund !  I 
hope  you  choke !  " 


n 

IT  was  on  a  sultry  July  night  that  Bronson  Egan 
had  quitted  Plainfield,  headed  overseas,  and  it  was 
on  a  sultry  afternoon  in  mid-July,  four  years 
later,  that  he  came  back.  At  the  first  glance,  the  mere 
familiar  appearance  of  the  railroad  station  thrilled  him 
and  made  him  feel  the  warmth  of  homecoming;  but  an 
instant  later,  when  he  realized  that  there  was  no  one 
to  meet  him,  no  one  to  cheer  him,  no  one  even  among 
the  taxi-drivers  and  baggage  handlers  who  seemed  to 
remember  him  (or  whose  faces  he  could  himself  remem- 
ber), he  felt  his  excitement  slip  away  by  degrees,  and 
leave  him  only  impatient  to  proceed. 

As  he  hurried  across  the  street,  with  Henderson's 
gloomy  prophecy  dispossessing  him  of  his  rightful  joy 
to  be  at  home  again,  he  smiled  diagonally  at  the  con- 
trasts in  his  own  mind.  Overseas,  he  had  done  so  much 
more  than  he  had  ever  expected  to  do,  and  the  public 
reception  was  so  infinitely  less  than  he  had  visualized. 
There  was  no  reception  at  all,  there  was  no  welcome  at 
all;  there  wasn't  even  greeting.  There  wasn't  even 
recognition.  And  it  hurt  him,  because  he  lived  on  rec- 
ognition. To  be  sure,  he  attracted  long  stares  of  no- 
tice from  occasional  passers-by,  but  it  was  notice  of 
the  uniform,  and  not  of  the  man  within  it.  His  isola- 
tion of  spirit  made  him  feel  like  an  alien,  an  expatriate. 
He  had  once  been  accustomed  to  say,  and  to  believe, 
that  he  knew  "  everybody  "  in  Plainfield.  The  absence 
of  familiar  faces  was  almost  a  blow  at  his  pride. 

19 


«0  EGAN 

As  he  increased  his  pace,  he  heard  his  name  called 
excitedly,  by  a  woman's  voice.  Stirred  even  by  the  un- 
known, he  wheeled  swiftly.  At  the  nearest  curb  was 
parked  a  handsome  touring-car,  with  an  elderly  woman 
and  two  attractive  girls  in  the  tonneau.  Instantane- 
ously, Egan's  brain  was  wiped  clean  of  the  prophecy. 

"  Bronson  1 "  The  elderly  woman  in  dark  blue  silk 
was  leaning  far  out  to  him,  oflPering  both  her  hands  and 
beaming  with  surprised  pleasure ;  beyond  her,  the  pret- 
tiest girl  in  Plainfield  was  aquiver  with  delight,  and 
•admiration.  The  third  occupant,  nearest  to  £gan,  was 
a  stranger. 

"Mrs.  Kent!  And  ...  and  Mary!"  His  black 
leather  suit-case  was  left  standing  on  the  edge  of  the 
sidewalk  to  impede  pedestrians  as  it  would;  his  over- 
seas cap  was  flung  to  the  seat  by  the  chauffeur,  who 
edged  dignifiedly  away  from  it. 

"  We  knew  you  were  coming,  Bronson,  but  we  didn't 
know  when.  I'm  so  glad  we  stopped  here.  How  well 
you're  looking !     Isn't  he,  Mary  ?  " 

The  daughter,  wreathed  in  smiles,  agreed  with  suffi- 
cient enthusiasm.  "  Splendid !  "  She  couldn't  keep 
h^r  eyes  from  Egan's  ribbon-bars,  and  he  was  deli- 
ciously  self-conscious.  The  sight  of  her  had  given  him 
back  his  sense  of  ownership  of  the  world.  "  But  I'd 
hardly  know  you.     You've  changed  so." 

Egan  laughed  explosively.  "  So've  you.  So's  Plain- 
field.  So's  everything !  "  He  brought  himself  back  to 
the  routine  of  the  conventions.  "  Mr.  Kent's  well,  I 
hope." 

"  The  colonel's  due  tomorrow,  Bronson,"  said  Mrs. 
Kent  with  matronly  satisfaction.     "Yes,  we've  a  sol- 


EGAN  21 

dier  in  our  family,  too.  He  was  a  lieutenant-colonel 
first,  and  then  they  promoted  him  to  colonel.  He's  been 
in  the  Quartermaster  Corps  in  Washington." 

"  Really !  You  must  be  awfully  proud  of  him." 
Egan  said  this  with  much  sincerity,  but  he  wasn't  look- 
ing at  Mrs.  Kent  as  he  said  it. 

"  Well  —  confidentially,  I  am.  .  .  ."  She  turned  to 
the  pretty  stranger.  "  Martha,  I  want  you  to  meet 
Lieutenant  Egan  —  you've  heard  so  much  about 
him — "  The  stranger  and  Egan  bowed  in  unison. 
"  He's  one  of  our  dearest  and  oldest  friends.  Where 
are  you  going,  Bronson?  Can't  we  take  you  some- 
where ?  " 

"  No,  thanks.  I'm  only  going  up  to  Judge  Perkins' 
office."  The  stranger's  face  absorbed  him ;  he  felt  sure 
that  he  had  met  her  somewhere,  but  his  mental  processes 
refused  to  set  a  time  or  place.  And  Mrs.  Kent  had 
conmiitted  that  common  and  stultifying  error  of  neglect- 
ing to  mention  the  stranger's  name. 

"  Oh.  Well  —  you're  coming  to  see  us  soon)  aren't 
you  ?     Very  soon  ?  " 

Egan  glanced  at  the  daughter,  and  took  pleasure  in 
the  discovery  that  her  cheeks  were  delicately  flushed, 
and  her  eyes  expressive.  She  moved  her  head  ever  so 
slightly  up  and  down ;  and  then,  as  she  quickly  avoided 
his  gaze,  flushed  more  deeply  yet.  Egan  drew  a  long 
breath. 

"  Very  soon  indeed,"  he  promised,  reaching  for  his 
cap.  "  It's  good  to  see  you  again  —  it's  making  me 
homesick.     Overseas,  I  didn't  have  time  for  it." 

"Mother—" 

**  Yes,  dear." 


WL  EGAN 

"Tonight?" 

The  older  woman  was  gently  vibrated  from  her  poise. 
Her  eyebrows  fluttered  with  a  premonitory  message  of 
caution.  In  the  meantime,  Egan  had  noted  that  the 
stranger  bore  a  marked  resemblance  to  Mary,  so  that 
he  put  her  down  as  a  distant  relative,  and  stopped  tax- 
ing his  mind  about  her. 

"  Why,  I  didn't  quite  suppose.  .  .  ."  She  halted, 
nonplussed ;  and  finally  put  her  exquisitely  gloved  hand 
over  Egan's,  as  it  rested  on  the  tonneau  door.  "  To 
tell  the  truth,  we're  having  a  little  dance  at  the  house 
tonight,  Bronson.  I  didn't  quite  know  whether  to  ask 
you  up  or  not,  but  as  long  as  Mary.  .  .  .  We'd  love 
to  have  you,  of  course,  but  if  it's  too  soon — "  She 
was  prepared  to  interpret  the  faintest  hint  of  his  un- 
certainty. 

"No,"  said  Egan.  "I'll  be  glad  to  come."  He 
looked  down  at  the  cobblestones  of  the  street.  "  You've 
noticed  I'm  not  wearing  any  arm-band.  I'm  not  parad- 
ing it  at  aU.  I'm  not  doing  anything  very  differently 
from  what  I  would  have,  if  he'd  lived.  That  was  some- 
thing he  always  made  a  point  of.  He  always  used  to 
say  that  if  anything  like  that  happened  to  him,  he 
wanted  me  to  go  right  on  as  usual,  and  just  remember 
how  much  he'd  have  enjoyed  looking  on.  You  won't 
be  offended  if  I  don't  dance,  though.-'  If  I  just  come 
to  see  you  and  meet  some  of  my  old  friends.'* " 

The  two  Kents  were  palpably  reheved. 

*'  Do  come,  then  : —  and  do  whatever  you  like." 

Egan  nodded,  caught  Mary's  eye,  and  was  fasci- 
nated.    Her  lips  formed  the  unspoken  word :     "  Early." 

"  Right-o,"    said    Egan,    with    dual    purpose.     He 


EGAN  23 

bowed  to  each  of  the  trio ;  the  touring-car  slid  forward ; 
and  Egan,  lifted  back  to  his  normal  plane  of  exaltation 
by  the  chance  meeting,  turned  to  pick  up  his  suitcase. 

He  was  a  few  seconds  too  late.  A  bibulous  wayfarer, 
radiantly  engrossed  in  things  far,  far  above  the  com- 
mon level  of  a  down-town  sidewalk,  and  on  a  higher 
plane  of  exaltation  even  than  Egan,  had  stumbled, 
tripped,  and  snatching  at  vacancy,  found  vacancy  filled 
solid  with  the  bulk  of  Egan,  and  clung  to  him,  just  as 
he  turned,  as  though  he  had  been  a  friendly  lamp-post. 

"  Ten  thousan'  years  an'  .  .  .  hie!  ,  .  .  twice  ten 
thousan'  years  have  fled,"  observed  the  bibulous  one, 
carefully  freeing  one  hand  to  settle  his  headgear.  "  An* 
.  .  .  hie  .  .  .  whoever  y'are,  on  my  b-bended  knees  I 
thank  you  for  k-keepin'  the  tryst  at  the  appointed  place 
this  sacred  moment  to  save  me  —  breakin'  my  damn  fool 
neck."  He  gestured  courteously  to  the  sky  with  his 
free  hand,  and  continued  to  embrace  Egan  with  the 
other  arm. 

Egan,  endeavouring  to  disengage  himself,  saw  with 
chagrin  that  the  Kents'  car  was  stalled  in  traffic  only 
a  few  yards  away,  and  that  the  three  women  were  look- 
ing back  at  him.  He  was  also  painfully  aware  of  the 
amusement  of  every  one  else  within  sight  and  hearing. 

"  Here !  Behave  yourself.  This  is  a  bone-dry  state, 
man.  You'll  get  in  trouble.  You're  all  right  now  — 
brace  up ! " 

"  What  ?  "  The  man  had  put  his  heavy  hands  on 
Egan's  shoulders,  and  was  straining  into  his  face,  as 
Egan  tried  to  avoid  him.  He  was  of  middle  age  and 
excellent  physique ;  he  was  well-dressed,  and  his  features, 
for  all  their  present  weakness,  had  points  of  character. 


24  EGAN 

"  Who  are  you,  ch-child  of  Fate  ?  You  look  like  Old 
Man  Egan.  You  do,  do  you  not  ?  Yes,  you  do.  Then 
who'n  hell  are  you  ? "  Into  his  vacant  eyes  shot  a 
sudden  gleam  of  recognition.  Of  joyous  horror. 
"  Why  .  .  .  why,  it's  you,  boy !  It's  .  .  .  it's  Bronson 
Egan  come  back  home  again,  or  I'm  a  .  .  .  I'm  a.  .  .  .'* 
He  made  a  desperate  effort  to  stand  erect,  and  partly 
succeeded.  "  Bronson !  "  he  said  thickly.  "  Oh,  Bron- 
son !  Don't  you  know  me,  boy  ?  Don't  you  remember 
me?  No.''  Look  a'  me,  Bronson.  Do'  know  me.'' 
Why,  it's  .  .  .  it's  your  Uncle  Stanley  —  your  Uncle 
Stanley  Adams  —  an'  I'm  tight,  Bronson  .  .  .  I'm 
tight!" 

Over  Egan  there  suddenly  swept  a  flood  of  sunny 
memory.  More  than  twelve  good  years  ago.  The  be- 
lt)ved  mentor  of  his  childhood ;  one  of  his  earliest  demi- 
gods ;  the  first  to  receive  unsolicited  the  highest  distinc- 
tion that  the  boy  Bronson  could  bestow  —  the  honorary 
title  of  relationship. 

**  Uncle  Stanley !  "  he  gasped. 

The  man  stepped  warily  closer,  and  linked  arms  with 
him.  Half  a  block  ahead,  the  three  women  were  stiU 
watching. 

"  Oh,  Bronson  .  .  .  never  thought  you'd  see  your 
Uncle  Stanley  tight!  Want  to  cry.  Not  goin'  to 
cry  .  .  .  no.  Want  to.  Tight.  Tight  every  aft'- 
noon,  Bronson.  I  like  it.  Le's  go  get  a  cup  black  cof- 
fee. Black.  Blacker  .  .  .  Mc  .  .  .  better.  Do'  want 
pale  black  .  .  .  want  dark  black.  Sober'n  a  judge 
then.  Le's  go.  Hang  on,  Bronson,  ol'  boy  —  I'm 
tight!" 


EGAN  25 

Egan,  red-faced  with  shame  and  outraged  reminis- 
cence, hesitated  only  the  briefest  instant.  From  boy- 
hood, he  had  cared  not  the  snap  of  his  fingers  what 
was  thought  of  him.  He  had  followed  his  instincts,  and 
his  moods  unswervingly ;  he  had  held  himself  the  only 
true  independent  of  all  his  fellows,  totally  contemptuous 
of  criticism,  or  of  example.  And  the  man  beside  him, 
although  undeniably  tight,  was  nevertheless  the  beloved 
Uncle  Stanley  of  those  brighter  years. 

When  he  had  left  Plainfield,  he  had  dreamed  of  re- 
turning as  a  great  hero,  to  be  met  with  the  veneration 
of  the  populace.  He  had  dreamed  of  the  triumphant 
march  he  would  make  down  Main  Street,  and  of  the 
crowds  that  would  pause  to  stare  at  him  because  he 
was  Bronson  Egan. 

Now  he  was  making  that  march;  and  crowds  were 
pausing  to  stare  at  him.  He  was  making  that  march 
past  the  Kents'  touring-car,  still  bound  in  traffic ;  mak- 
ing it  past  a  score  of  citizens  he  recognized,  each  of 
whom  seemed  to  pop  out  of  ambush  like  a  jack-in-the- 
box  at  this  precise  moment ;  making  it  for  six  long 
squares  down  Main  Street  to  the  nearest  Child's  res- 
taurant, with  his  suit-case  in  one  hand,  and  the  stum- 
bling idol  of  his  boyhood  clinging  fast  to  his  other  arm, 
for  all  of  Plainfield  to  see,  and  to  remember.  The 
crowds  stared;  not  because  it  was  Bronson  Egan,  but 
because  it  was  a  humorous  or  a  shameful  spectacle,  de- 
pending on  which  way  you  looked  at  it.  No  one  could 
possibly  have  seen  anything  sentimental  in  it.  Every 
one  had  looked  either  disgusted  or  amused;  every  one 
except  the  strange  girl  who,  from  her  seat  beside  the 


26  EGAN 

Kents,  had  regarded  Egan,  as  he  passed,  with  something 
of  the  expression  that  Mary  Kent  had  lately  worn  in 
gazing  at  his  ribbon  of  the  Croix  de  Guerre. 

An  hour  afterwards,  when  he  gave  his  name  over  a 
wicket  to  the  severe  young  woman  who,  although  yet 
unscathed,  was  afraid  that  some  one  was  eventually 
going  to  flirt  with  her,  he  was  told  that  Judge  Perkins 
was  closeted  with  an  important  client,  and  wouldn't 
be  at  liberty  until  half  past  five.  Would  the  gentle- 
man wait?  The  gentleman  most  decidedly  would.  So 
Bronson  Egan  sat  himself  down  on  a  very  hard  bench 
by  the  wicket,  and  sittings  there,  permitted  his  thoughts 
to  drift  backwards  over  the  events  of  this  extraordinary 
afternoon,  over  the  amazing  statements  of  the  florid 
gentleman  in  the  smoking  compartment,  and  over  the 
pyramid  of  things,  beginning  at  his  birth,  which  had 
terminated  in  the  apex  of  today,  and  brought  him  here. 

His  thoughts  were  chiefly  about  his  father. 


in 

IN  Plainfield,  it  had  been  commonly  said  that  Old 
Man  Egan  had  displayed  uncontrolled  emotion 
only  twice  in  his  life,  and  that  on  both  occasions 
he  had  shed  tears.  It  was  a  hard  report  to  believe,  if 
you  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes,  for  Old  Man  Egan 
retained  just  enough  of  the  outward  characteristics  of 
his  grandparents  to  make  you  expect  from  him  the  same 
bubbling  humour,  the  same  fighting  passions,  the  same 
unchecked  sorrows, —  in  general,  the  same  spontaneity 
of  conduct  —  as  those  ancestors  of  his  had  enjoyed  in 
distant  Ballycastle,  two  full  generations  past  and  gone. 

But  all  this  reminiscence  lay  deep  in  Old  Man  Egan's 
blue  eyes^  and  it  never  went  further.  No  one  in  Plain- 
field  had  ever  heard  him  laugh  outright,  or  heard  his 
voice  lifted  above  the  conversational  pitch.  There  was 
a  vague  rumour  that  in  his  younger  days,  before  he  had 
settled  down  in  Plainfield,  he  had  been  a  roistering  blade 
worthy  to  uphold  the  best  of  Celtic  tradition  in  peace 
or  quarrel,  but  this  was  wholly  unconfirmed  and,  indeed, 
was  whispered  over  the  tea-cakes  chiefly  by  widow- 
ladies,  elderly  spinsters,  and  large-hearted  married 
women,  by  way  of  a  contrast,  and  to  provide  the  ro- 
mance which  no  handsome  widower  is  suffered  to  be 
without. 

The  first  of  these  two  guaranteed  instances  of  Old 
Man  Egan's  emotion  dated  from  a  certain  night  when 
he  had  been  a  resident  of  Plainfield  for  perhaps  three 

27 


28  EGAN 

weeks;  and  that  was  more  than  twenty  years  ago.  A 
surgeon  had  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  waiting-room  of 
the  little  city  hospital,  hesitated,  analysed  his  man,  and 
walked  directly  to  Old  Man  Egan,  and  put  his  hand 
on  his  shoulder. 

"  My  boy,"  he  said  (for  Old  Man  Egan  was  hardly 
qualified  as  a  legal  voter  then),  "  My  boy,  she's  given 
you  a  son  —  and  she  may  live  an  hour,  possibly  two 
hours  —  not  more." 

It  was  said  that  Old  Man  Egan's  head  had  drawn 
down  into  his  shoulders  as  though  he  had  been  black- 
jacked from  behind. 

"  Does  she  know  it,  Doctor  ?  "  he  had  asked. 

"  No." 

Old  Man  Egan's  chest  promised  to  burst,  but  his 
head  was  erect  again,  and  his  eyes,  so  the  doctor  re- 
lated, were  such  that  a  common  man  couldn't  bear  to 
look  into  them. 

"  Then  she  will  not,"  said  Old  Man  Egan,  and  went 
in  to  her.  She  was  both  conscious  and  happy,  piteously 
weak  and  gloriously  unsuspecting.  He  cheered  her, 
praised  her,  uplifted  her,  kept  an  invisible  tie  of  faith 
and  love  and  encouragement  between  them  to  the  last 
minute,  and  a  few  minutes  beyond.  And  then,  after 
that,  there  was  no  one  within  earshot  whose  face  didn't 
show  a  sympathy  of  pain  for  Old  Man  Egan,  alone 
there  on  his  knees,  sobbing  his  heart  out  for  the  girl 
who  had  exchanged  her  life  for  Old  Man  Egan's  son. 

The  second  time  was  ten  years  later.  Old  Man 
Egan  and  his  young  friend  Stanley  Adams,  of  the  city 
staff  of  the  Plainfield  Times,  were  sitting  at  dusk  on 
the  veranda  of  Egan's  tiny  house.     Through  the  gate, 


EGAN  29 

up  the  walk,  up  the  steps  strolled  Bronson  Egan,  a 
nonchalant  tatterdemalion,  torn,  bruised,  discoloured, 
with  a  mouse  over  one  eye  and  a  thin  trickle  of  blood 
from  his  lips.  Not  faltering,  he  came  to  his  father's 
chair  and  stood  there,  like  a  prisoner  awaiting  sen- 
tence, but  a  prisoner  who  has  waived  extradition,  and 
come  to  judgment  of  his  own  accord,  with  self-respect 
intact.  Old  Man  Egan  inspected  him  minutely,  glanced 
at  Adams,  and  relighted  his  cigar. 

"Well?" 

The  boy  stood  on  one  foot.  "  Had  a  fight,  dad,"  he 
said. 

His  father  smoked  reflectively.     "  Who  with?  '* 

«  Eddie  Macklin." 

"What  about?" 

"  Aw,  dad  !  " 

"  What  about,  Bronson?  " 

"  Well,  he  ...  he  ...  he  said  Mary  Kent's  stuck- 
up." 

The  corners  of  Old  Man  Egan's  mouth  twitched  at 
this  reference  to  the  daughter  of  G.  Willoughby  Kent, 
his  chief  competitor  in  the  local  field,  and  prime  mag- 
nate of  Plainfield. 

"  What's  your  own  opinion  on  that  point,  son?  " 

The  boy's  feet  shuffled,  and  his  ears  grew  hot. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Old  Man  Egan.  "  Who 
licked?  " 

"  I  did." 

"Sure?" 

"  I  knocked  his  head  off,"  said  Bronson,  none  too 
conservatively,  "  and  he  bawled,  and  ran  home.  Said 
he'd  tell  on  me." 


80  EGAN 

**  Lick  him  fair,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Well  .  .  .  after  he  bit,  I  had  to.  Didn't  begin  it, 
dad.     Honest." 

"Taste  good,  did  he?" 

"  Naw !  "  The  boy's  toothless  smile  was  expansive. 
**  I  didn't  bite  only  twice,  anyhow." 

*'  Don't  you  ever  bite  again,  whether  the  other  boy 
does  or  not.  The  Lord  gives  us  fists  to  fight  with  an' 
teeth  to  eat  with.  Don't  mix  the  system.  .  .  .  Not 
afraid  he'd  lick  you  next  time  he  catches  you?  " 

Bronson  patted  his  cut  lip,  threw  out  his  chest,  and 
smiled  sweetly. 

"  I  can  lick  any  feller  my  size  in  this  town,"  he  re- 
marked ;  and  added,  after  a  pause,  "  and  maybe  a  little 
bit  bigger." 

Stanley  Adams  said  afterwards  that  Old  Man  Egan 
had  happy  tears  in  his  eyes  and  that  his  voice  trembled 
with  pride  as  he  ordered  his  son  to  go  upstairs  and 
make  himself  fit  to  eat  dinner  with  decent  people. 

**  And  what,"  asked  Adams  presently,  "  are  you  go- 
ing to  do  with  the  boy,  Jim  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  mean  —  do  with  him  ?  " 

The  reporter  had  all  the  altruism  of  a  bachelor. 

"  Why,  simply  this  —  so  far  you've  been  able  to  keep 
a  house  running  for  him  to  live  in,  and — " 

"  Not  a  house  —  a  home,"  said  Old  Man  Egan 
stiffly,  and  Adams  nodded.  Old  Man  Egan's  quixotic 
persistence  in  maintaining  his  own  establishment,  when 
he  could  so  easily  have  sent  Bronson  to  the  Sisters  of 
St.  Mary  first,  and  to  a  good  boarding  school  after- 
wards, was  a  matter  of  common  discussion. 


EGAN  81 

It  wasn't  so  well  known,  however,  that  Old  Man  Egan 
did  it  because  he  had  never  ceased  to  think  of  his  wife 
at  least  once  every  quarter  hour  of  his  life. 

"  Quite  right  —  a  home,"  said  Stanley.  "  And  you 
had  a  nurse  for  him,  and  now  you  seem  to  have  a  pretty 
fair  housekeeper,  but  after  all,  Jim,  he's  been  a  young 
animal  up  to  now.  Don't  shake  your  head  —  of  course 
he  has.  I'm  not  calling  him  names.  Children  are  ani- 
mals. All  that  mattered  was  his  health.  Isn't  that 
so.?" 

"  Well,  let's  suppose  it's  so.  I  want  to  hear  some 
of  a  bachelor's  theories  on  raising  a  boy." 

"  Don't  worry,  Jim  —  you're  going  to.  Why,  I  was 
simply  wondering  how  long  you  think  you  can  keep  it 
up.  He's  growing  up  fast.  Seems  to  me  he'll  be  miss- 
ing a  lot  of  the  influences  he  ought  to  have.  If  he's  got 
the  family  traits,  he's  sensitive.  He's  impressionable. 
He's  a  fighter.  He  ought  to  have  training  that  you 
can't  give  him  —  no  man  could.  When  he  came  in  just 
now  was  a  case  in  point.  You'll  make  a  wild  man  out 
of  him.     Now  if  you  were  to  be  married  again  — " 

"  No."  Old  Man  Egan's  tone  was  subdued,  but  it 
made  Adams  sense  his  own  intrusion.  "  If  I  could 
take  charge  of  a  lad  one  hour  old,  Stanley,  and  bring 
him  up  to  fight  for  a  —  a  lady  — "  Egan  grinned 
flittingly,  "  at  the  age  of  ten,  beat  his  man,  come  home 
and  tell  me, —  not  lyin'  about  the  little  girl  who  he  does 
think  is  stuck-up,  but  he  likes  her  just  the  same  and 
maybe  better  for  it,  because  he's  by  way  of  bein'  stuck- 
up  himself  —  an'  not  neglectin'  to  tell  about  the  bitin' 
part,  which  he  knows  is  not  fair  —  if  I  can  have  him 
come  to  me  half  expectin'  to  get  trounced  for  fightin', 


32  EGAN 

^ 

look  me  in  the  eye  and  tell  his  tale  and  wait  for  orders, 
get  them  and  obey  them  —  then,  I  can  bring  him  up 
the  rest  of  the  way  .  .  .  maybe." 

Adams  conceded  the  possibility.  "  You've  done  won- 
ders with  him,  Jim,  no  doubt  about  it.  And  built  up 
a  good  business  besides  —  Heaven  knows  how.  But  in 
the  daytimes,  when  he's  out  of  school  and  you're  away 
.  .  .  I'm  just  wondering  whether  you  want  him  to  grow 
up  to  be  a  loose  end,  or  what.  You  can't  be  everything 
to  him,  you  know.  You'll  make  a  he-man  out  of  him, 
all  right,  but  the  best  kind  of  man  has  to  be  sort  of 
tempered  before  he's  ready  for  the  world.  He'll  get 
his  ideals  second-hand  unless  he  gets  them  from  the 
right  kind  of  women.     He  — " 

Old  Man  Egan  interrupted.  "  Yesterday,"  he  said 
mildly,  "  I  bought  the  old  Senator  Servos  house  on  Vine 
Street,  furnished." 

"  You  did  .'*  "  Adams'  brows  gathered.  "  But  what's 
that  got  to  do  with  Bronson?  And  what  on  earth  can 
you  do  with  a  small  hotel  like  that?  " 

"  Everything,"  said  Old  Man  Egan.  "  I  made  ten 
thousand  five  hundred  last  year,  I'll  make  twelve  this. 
The  house  was  on  the  market  cheap,  and  I  took  subject 
to  mortgage.  It's  a  first-rate  investment.  Bronson 
and  I  are  going  up  on  Vine  Street  to  live  among  the 
swells."  Puzzled  by  his  air  of  finality,  Adams  held  his 
silence.  **  The  boy'U  learn  all  there  is  to  be  learned, 
Stanley.  He'll  have  the  best  neighbours  and  go  to  the 
best  schools.  He'll  have  day  school,  and  Sunday 
school,  and  dancin'  school  —  all  with  women  teachers. 
He's  a  bit  of  a  hellion,  so  every  woman  mothers  him  a 


EGAN  33 

bit."  Old  Man  Egan  seemed  to  see  miles  over  the  end 
of  his  cigar.  "  He'll  have  all  the  advantages  that  my 
money  can  buy,  and  I'll  have  all  the  money  I  can  make 
without  forgettin'  that  I'm  a  father.  I  intend  to  ask 
two  or  three  of  my  friends  to  come  live  with  us,  so  he'U 
hear  sensible  talk  at  his  meals,  an'  get  ideas  that  teach- 
ers haven't  the  time  to  find  out  about.  Politics,  busi- 
ness, life.  When  I'm  done  with  the  house,  I've  got  a 
better  use  for  it  than  it's  ever  seen  yet,  and  in  the 
meantime  it'll  do  what  I  want  it  to.  When  he's,  say, 
twenty-five,  out  of  college,  with  three  or  four  years'  ex- 
perience, I  take  him  in  as  a  partner."  Old  Man  Egan 
leaned  forward  to  tap  Stanley's  knee.  "  And  as  my 
-partner,  Stanley,"  he  said,  "  he'll  have  a  half  interest 
in  what'll  be  a  quarter  of  a  million  dollar  business  by 
that  time,  if  I  live  and  keep  my  health." 

"  Um,"  said  Adams.     "  You're  confident." 

Old  Man  Egan  was  imperturbable. 

"  Confident  ?  Sure  I'm  confident !  Give  a  man 
something  to  work  for,  Stanley !  I  churn  myself  ten 
miles  before  breakfast  every  morning  on  a  bicycle  — 
*  there  goes  that  crank  Egan  again  I'  Crank?  Why, 
Stanley,  my  health  is  his  future !  Eat  right,  go  to  bed 
early,  drink  seldom  — '  Old  Man  Egan's  a  faddist ! ' 
No,  but  Old  Man  Egan's  got  something  to  work  for. 
A  good  loser?  No.  A  good  trader?  Not  by  a  damn' 
sight !  A  good  loser  hasn't  any  kick  in  him,  and  a  good 
trader  generally  lands  before  a  referee  in  bankruptcy. 
I'm  hard  to  do  business  with,  Stanley  —  harder  than 
nails.  Fair  and  square,  the  best  I  know  how,  but  a  cold 
proposition  on  a  new  scheme,  and  bad  pickin'  for  shoe- 


34  EGAN 

string  artists."  He  grimaced.  "  Fact  is,  I'm  the* 
worst  gambler  in  Plainfield,  Stanley,  only  nobody  knows, 
it." 

"  Don't  make  me  laugh !  Gambler !  Next  thing 
you'll  call  yourself  a  souse ! " 

Old  Man  Egan  made  a  gesture  of  confirmation. 

**  By  instinct,  Stanley  —  and  by  practice  until  I  was 
married.  I'd  rather  gamble  than  eat.  Poker,  stock 
market,  Board  of  Trade,  business  —  anything.  Love 
it,  Stanley.  But  it's  his  money.  It's  his  future.  I 
haven't  risked  a  nickel  on  a  gamble  since  Ninety-Four. 
I  wouldn't  so  much  as  match  you  for  carfares ;  I  might 
lose.  I  don't  take  chances  any  more.  I'm  tellin'  you 
|;his  so  you  can  see  the  point.  So  I  guess  I  won't  take 
many  chances  on  the  other  things  —  education  and  mor- 
als and  society,  and  all  that.  I'll  take  no  chances  on 
Bronson.     The  boy'll  make  me  proud  of  him." 

"Or  .  .  .   .?" 

"  There  isn't  any  *  or.'  "  He  tossed  the  stump  of  his 
cigar  over  the  railing.  "  I  will  brag  about  only  one 
thing  on  this  earth,  Stanley,  and  that  one  thing  is  that 
when  an  Egan  makes  a  promise,  even  to  himself,  he 
keeps  it.  I  promise  you  the  boy'll  be  a  good  man,  a 
strong  man,  and  a  credit  to  the  mother  he  never  saw  — 
and  I  wish  I  could  promise  two  per  cent  as  much  for 
you.     Come  on  in  to  dinner." 

To  the  big,  rambling  house  on  Vine  Street,  Old  Man 
Egan  took  his  young  son  Bronson  to  live  among  the 
swells ;  and  measured  by  the  gauge  of  Plainfield  and  the 
era,  it  was  a  move  to  an  impregnable  position.  The 
house   itself   was    comfortable    and   hideous;    a    slate- 


EGAN  35 

roofed,  raw-bricked  structure  of  unexpected  twists  and 
turns  and  architectural  improprieties  which,  on  the 
outside,  sadly  offended  the  modern  eye,  but  on  the  in- 
side, gave  deep  respite  to  the  modern  body. 

It  took  Bronson  Egan,  even  under  the  spur  of  nov- 
elty, two  days  of  constant  exploration  to  familiarize 
himself  with  the  four-acre  estate;  after  that,  he  was 
thoroughly  acclimated.  The  abrupt  improvement  in 
his  scale  of  living  never  seemed  to  register  on  his  con- 
sciousness ;  he  simply  took  for  granted  the  broad  lawn 
with  its  twin  stags  at  bay  (and  rode  them  bareback  at 
the  top  of  his  lungs)  ;  he  accepted  without  a  tremor 
the  prim  old  bams  and  stables,  with  their  empty  bins 
and  stalls  and  all  their  manifold  possibilities  for  pi- 
rates' lairs,  and  club  headquarters,  and  gymnasiums, 
and  general  sanctuary  from  pursuit ;  he  was  no  less 
even-pulsed,  although  pleased,  when  horses  and  a  sad- 
dle-pony came  to  live  in  those  echoing  stalls ;  he  wasn't 
for  a  moment  awed  to  dwell  in  an  ex-Senator's  mansion 
with  seventeen  rooms  and  two  baths,  one  of  them  almost 
new. 

On  the  ground  floor,  leading  out  of  a  square  little 
hallway,  there  was  a  reception  room  in  unspeakably 
fragile  gilt,  with  many  gold-framed  paintings  ("  hand 
done,"  the  real-estate  agent  had  taken  his  solemn  oath) 
in  ebony  shadow-boxes,  and  a  gilded  statue  of  Venus, 
very  nearly  life-size,  with  a  clock  so  placed  as  appar- 
ently to  record  the  amount  of  her  appetite.  This 
apartment  had  the  power  to  off*end  Bronson  merely  by 
its  atmosphere  of  unreality ;  he  shied  from  it,  as  he  had 
been  taught  to  shy  from  too-brightly  coloured  candy. 
It  didn't  digest  well.     On  the  opposite  side  of  the  hall 


36  EGAN 

there  was  a  drawing-room,  much  larger  and  more  heav- 
ily equipped;  a  room  which  somehow  gave  Bronson  a 
feeling  of  supreme  arrogance  as  he  stood  in  the  centre 
of  it  and  slowly  wheeled  to  all  points  of  the  compass. 
Here  was  a  grand  piano  in  solid  mahogany,  and  a 
grandfather's  clock  in  solid  mahogany,  and  a  grand 
series  of  chairs  and  tables  in  the  very  solidest  of  solid 
mahogany;  five  standing  electroliers  with  mahogany 
columns  and  parti-coloured  shades,  countless  gold- 
framed  engravings  suspended  from  the  picture  moulding 
by  gold  and  blue  ropes,  rosetted  at  the  top  and  adorned 
with  heavy  tassels  halfway  down ;  seven  j  ardinieres, 
mainly  blue,  disposed  in  corners;  and,  above  all,  the 
most  wondrous  of  carpets,  thick  and  noiseless,  an  al- 
most perfect  boy-silencer.  Further  on,  there  was  the 
library,  a  huge,  dusky  room  with  practically  all  of  the 
Senator's  books  still  resident;  two  gigantic  baize-cov- 
ered desks,  and  a  magnificently  cushioned  window  seat 
where  Bronson  might  repose  at  leisure  and  strain  his 
eyes  to  read  in  the  faint  light  struggling  through  the 
diamond  panes  of  stained  glass  above  his  head.  Later 
on,  this  was  to  be  the  council  chamber  of  the  local  chap- 
ter of  the  St.  Nicholas  League  —  the  camouflaged  title 
of  Bronson's  penny-matching  association  and  offensive- 
and-defensive  neighbourhood  alliance.  There  was  also 
a  commodious  cellarette  built  into  the  wall;  and  if  the 
Senator  had  kept  it  filled  with  a  stock  as  innocent  as 
Bronson's  —  the  rolling  stock  of  the  Plainfield  Me- 
chanical Railroad  Company  —  the  house  might  not 
have  passed  out  of  the  Senator's  possession,  nor  the 
Plainfield  Sanitarium  acquired  its  most  distinguished 
patient. 


EGAN  37 

On  the  second  floor,  reached  by  a  broad  staircase 
with  a  sort  of  ecclesiastical  window  at  the  half-way 
junction,  were  the  bedrooms  which  gave  to  Bronson  his 
enduring  sense  of  the  majesty  of  sleep.  His  own  was 
nearly  twenty  feet  square  —  plenty  of  room  to  swing  a 
cat  in,  as  Old  Man  Egan  said,  and  plenty  of  room  to 
practise  swinging  a  baseball  bat  in,  which  Bronson  often 
did.  From  the  narrow,  darkened  hallway,  a  row  of 
massive  doors  gave  upon  unused  room  after  unused 
room;  people  touched  their  temples  suggestively  when 
they  spoke  of  Old  Man  Egan's  folly  in  buying  this  un- 
necessarily large  house,  and  wondered  what  on  earth  he 
could  do  with  ten  bedrooms  for  a  family  composed  of 
himself,  his  son,  and  his  Scotch  housekeeper. 

Old  Man  Egan  showed  them.  In  accordance  with  his 
preconceived  idea,  he  invited  to  live  with  him  Stanley 
Adams  of  the  Times,  who  would  converse  occasionally 
with  Bronson  on  topics  of  the  day,  and  sharpen  his 
worldly  wits.  He  compelled  the  Honourable  George 
Perkins,  his  lawyer  and  his  closest  friend,  to  renounce 
his  cosy  boarding  house,  and  to  live  in  the  ancient  gran- 
deur of  Room  Number  Four.  This  was  in  hope  that 
Bronson  would  absorb  much  of  dignity  and  worth  from 
Perkins. 

Perkins  and  Adams  paid  to  Old  Man  Egan  regularly 
weekly  the  same  as  they  had  paid  for  their  last  previous 
board  and  lodging.  "  So  that  anybody,"  said  Old  Man 
Egan,  "  can  curse  at  the  victuals,  complain  of  the  beds, 
or  quit  without  notice,  an'  nobody's  beholden  to  any- 
body." 

The  other  four  bedchambers  (excluding  Old  Man 
Egan's  cubicle  and  the  room  which  the  housekeeper  oc- 


38  EGAN 

cupied)  were  kept  fresh  in  linen  for  transient  guests. 
At  the  mere  conception  of  Old  Man  Egan  as  an  enter- 
tainer, Plainfield  had  politely  snickered;  but  Old  Man 
Egan,  emerging  from  his  long  retirement,  proved  to  be 
a  very  competent  entertainer  indeed,  although  a  sedate 
one,  and  eventually  it  was  understood  that  few  visitors 
of  intellect,  of  commercial  importance,  of  experience  in 
travel  or  in  the  arts  and  sciences,  had  any  very  pro- 
nounced chance  of  getting  away  from  Plainfield  with- 
out at  least  an  invitation  from  Old  Man  Egan.  Still 
more  to  be  marvelled  at,  a  large  proportion  of  these 
distinguished  visitors  seemed  to  take  a  fancy  to  Egan ; 
many  of  them  came  a  second  time,  and  repeatedly; 
many  remained  at  the  Vine  Street  house  throughout 
their  entire  local  stay;  and  Bronson  listened  to  them, 
and  whether  fascinated  or  bored,  allowed  the  germs  of 
ambition  to  percolate  into  his  brain.  It  was  at  about 
this  time  that  Old  Man  Egan  joined  the  Metropolitan 
Club,  and  those  who  were  most  amazed  at  his  desire  to 
become  a  member  were  still  more  amazed  when,  after 
paying  his  initiation  fee  and  dues,  he  never  availed 
himself  of  the  club's  privileges. 

"  Humph !  "  said  Old  Man  Egan  to  Adams.  "  Have 
they  no  remembrance  of  the  Constitution  and  By- 
Laws?  Sons  of  members  are  ipso-facto  junior  members 
at  eighteen  and  full-fledged  members  at  twenty-one. 
And  it's  the  best  club  in  Plainfield  —  although  I  don't 
care  much  for  clubs,  myself.  But  young  men  seem  to 
like  them." 

When  Bronson  was  twelve,  Stanley  Adams  went  away 
to  New  York  to  join  the  staff  of  what  he  called  a  "  real 
newspaper,"  and  Bronson  was  disconsolate,  for  Adams 


EGAN  39 

had  been  a  trusted  and  an  understanding  friend  and 
companion.  After  he  had  gone,  Bronson,  carrying  the 
journalist's  parting  gift,  a  coveted  .22  Winchester  re- 
peater, sought  his  father. 

"  Dad,"  he  said,  "  what  made  Uncle  Stanley's  breath 
smell  so  funny  when  he  said  good-bye?  " 

Old  Man  Egan,  a  teetotaller  against  his  inclination 
for  thirteen  years,  looked  down  at  him  with  tenderness 
in  his  eyes,  but  none  in  his  voice. 

"  The  wrath  of  God,"  said  Old  Man  Egan  enigmati- 
cally. "  In  the  form  of  liquor.  Don't  you  forget 
your  Uncle  Stanley,  Bronson  —  he'll  be  your  best  friend 
and  his  own  worst.  You'll  forget  what  I'm  telling  you 
—  Here !  Stop  that !  Don't  ever  point  a  gun  at  any- 
body whether  it's  loaded  or  not  —  but  I'll  be  satisfied  if 
you  don't  forget  your  Uncle  Stanley.  He'll  either  be 
a  tramp  or  a  great  editor,  Bronson,  before  he's  forty; 
and  in  either  case,  he'll  be  your  best  friend  and  his  own 
worst." 

Bronson  went  by  a  circuitous  route  to  a  neighbouring 
curate ;  not  that  he  needed  a  verification  of  his  father's 
definition,  but  because  he  felt  that  this  was  a  matter  re- 
quiring the  co-operation  of  the  cloth. 

"  Mr.  Simpkins,"  he  asked,  "  what  does  the  wrath  of 
God  smeU  like.?  " 

The  curate  was  verging  towards  Unitarianism,  and 
didn't  understand  small  boys. 

"  Sulphur  matches,"  he  responded  flippantly,  think- 
ing of  his  Puritan  forebears. 

"  You're  a  big  liar,"  said  Bronson,  with  awful  dis- 
tinctness.    "  It's  booze." 

It  took  the  good  offices  of  Uncle  George  Perkins  to 


40  EGAN 

settle  the  resultant  tumult;  and  to  bring  out  the  fact 
that  when  Bronson  had  to  decide  between  his  father  and 
a  clergyman,  the  cleric  naturally  suffered  by  compari- 
son. On  Perkins'  recommendation,  made  in  view  of  the 
boy's  earnestness,  Bronson  wasn't  punished,  except  by 
ultimatum  and  temporary  deprivation  of  his  rifle.  But 
the  curate  prophesied  frankly  that  Bronson  would  end 
in  a  reformatory ;  and  when  he  shortly  accepted  a  call  to 
Dayton,  Old  Man  Egan  didn't  ask  Bronson  to  be  sure 
to  remember  him. 

From  that  point  forward,  two  men  and  a  housekeeper 
brought  up  Bronson.  He  wasn't  lonely,  for  his  mental 
resources  were  always  amply  sufficient.  He  made 
friends  easily,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  made  them,  he  led 
them.  At  fifteen  he  was  acknowledged  cock-of-the-walk 
in  his  own  bailiwick:  the  handsomest,  hardest-hitting, 
best  dancing  youth  of  the  best  neighbourhood  in  Plain- 
field  and  most  of  the  others;  and  he  knew  it.  There 
was  no  barrier  to  his  confidence ;  there  was  no  achieve- 
ment which  he  would  confess  to  be  beyond  his  powers. 
He  got  what  he  wanted  when  he  wanted  it. 

Old  Man  Egan  watched  him  intently,  and  approved ; 
and  the  Honourable  George  Perkins  watched  him  and 
wasn't  sure  that  Stanley  Adams  hadn't  been  right  in 
prescribing  a  second  marriage  for  Old  Man  Egan. 
Watched  Bronson  plough  grandly  ahead  to  the  cap- 
taincy of  school  teams,  the  presidency  of  school  organ- 
izations. Saw  his  name  in  the  city  papers  —  first  as 
a  star  left-tackle,  later  as  a  frequent  guest  at  those 
junior  affairs  worth  chronicling  socially.  Watched 
him  become,  quite  naturally  and  normally,  that  speci- 
men of  his  age  known  as  a  lady-killer ;  and  devote  too 


EGAN  41 

much  time  to  his  clothes  and  his  haberdashery. 
Watched  him  slip  unerringly  into  the  social  life  of 
Plainfield  —  and  because  Plainfield  was  a  manufactur- 
ing city,  there  were  no  finely  drawn  distinctions  of  class ; 
there  was  society,  and  there  were  the  working  people. 
Bronson  was  in  society;  and  thinking  vaguely  of  wider 
fields  to  conquer  —  New  York,  for  example,  where 
Uncle  Stanley  Adams  was  one  of  the  elect,  writing 
signed  articles  for  a  great  newspaper  every  day,  and 
sending  a  letter  every  three  months  to  Old  Man  Egan 
to  explain  how  easy  it  was  to  break  into  the  metropolis 
if  you  knew  how.  His  letters  fretted  Bronson  and 
made  him  restless. 

In  the  meantime,  the  paternal  shop  had  prospered; 
Old  Man  Egan  was  manufacturing  first-grade  machine 
tools,  and  had  presently  organized  a  corporation  pay- 
ing twenty  per  cent.  Offered  bank  and  other  director- 
ships, he  shook  his  head. 

"  I've  got  a  single-track  mind,"  said  Old  Man  Egan, 
"  with  two  trains  on  it  now.  Thanks  for  the  compli- 
ment, but  I  can't  see  my  way  clear  .  .  ."  He  also  held 
tightly  to  nine-tenths  of  the  capital  stock,  no  matter 
what  outsiders  bid  for  it.  This,  too,  was  to  insure 
Bronson's  future. 

Bronson  enjoyed  all  the  expensive  juvenile  luxuries 
of  the  period ;  and  Old  Man  Egan,  who  a  few  years  ago 
had  sat  on  the  library  floor  with  him  to  teach  him  the 
fundamentals  of  railroading  by  use  of  his  elaborate  me- 
chanical railway,  now  taught  him  how  to  care  for  his 
motor-cycle  as  an  introduction  to  elementary  engineer- 
ing. Uncle  George  Perkins  scowled  occasionally,  and 
muttered   that   Bronson   was   being   given   too    much. 


42  EGAN 

taught  too  much,  and  allowed  to  make  too  few  mis- 
takes. 

At  eighteen,  when  Bronson  went  to  college,  he  was 
the  most  envied  boy  in  Plainfield.  He  was  affable,  keen 
as  a  razor,  straightforward,  tremendously  proud  of  his 
father  and  of  himself,  and  vastly  too  well  done.  Old 
Man  Egan  had  overtrained  him,  but  Old  Man  Egan 
never  suspected  it  —  never  suspected  that  the  bulk  of 
Bronson's  honours  were  conferred  reluctantly,  and  not 
because  Bronson  was  popular,  but  because  he  was  so 
accomplished  and  so  aggressive  that  he  simply  couldn't 
be  overlooked.  Never  suspected  that  the  majority  of 
the  girls  who  adored  him  were  arrant  little  hero-wor- 
shippers, glorifying  the  husk  of  the  hero  and  belittling 
the  kernel. 

Bronson  took  with  him  to  college  a  check  for  a  thou- 
sand dollars,  four  trunks,  a  slithering  red  roadster,  and 
the  photographs  of  eleven  pretty  girls.  (Those  of 
seven  girls  not  quite  so  pretty  he  left,  with  wickedness 
aforethought,  on  the  mantel  in  Uncle  George  Perkins' 
room.) 

"  Now,  boy,"  said  Old  Man  Egan  at  the  station, 
"  I'll  not  go  further  with  you.  You're  man  grown ;  I've 
made  of  you  all  I  can ;  the  rest  is  yours.  I'll  give  you 
no  old  woman's  advice,  neither.  All  I  have  to  say  to 
you  is  —  be  honest,  and  be  clean  —  and  one  virtue  or 
the  other  will  carry  you  through  all  but  one  trouble  in 
a  hundred.  If  the  hundredth  trouble  ever  comes  —  tel- 
egraph collect." 

The  college  looked  upon  Bronson,  and  found  him 
promising  to  look  at.  Higher  education  was  rapidly 
forced  upon  him,  and  he  was  abnormally  quick  to  learn. 


EGAN  43 

• 

The  trouble  was  that  on  account  of  Old  Man  Egan's 
care  and  foresight,  he  had  too  little  to  learn  for  his  own 
benefit.  He  was  a  born  student,  a  bom  athlete,  a  bom 
flirt,  and  Old  Man  Egan  had  over-developed  him,  omit- 
ting only  the  final  philosophy,  the  final  factor  of  safety, 
which  Bronson  should  have  understood  long  since  — 
that  he  never  need  be  on  guard  against  his  equals,  but 
against  his  inferiors,  for  they  were  large  in  numbers, 
and  more  envious  than  schoolboys  know  how  to  be. 

Again,  the  honours  came  to  him  with  hardly  an  effort. 
He  was  the  first  junior  ever  to  be  elected  football  cap- 
tain. He  spent  more  money  than  any  man  in  his  class ; 
won  more  pewter  trophies ;  demoralized  more  police- 
men ;  and  caused  the  hearts  of  more  girls  to  flutter  dan- 
gerously when  he  came  by.  According  to  undergradu- 
ate standards,  he  accomplished  much,  but  he  still  re- 
fused to  recognize  that  there  was  any  limit  to  what  he 
might  accomplish.  When  the  Senior  Class  voted  him 
its  opinion  that  of  all  its  members  he  was  the  most 
likely  to  succeed,  he  took  it  as  a  matter  of  just  due. 
He  thought  so  himself.  His  conceit  was  less  off'ensive 
than  it  might  have  been ;  but  even  so,  success  had  af- 
fected him  more  than  Old  Man  Egan  was  able  to  per- 
ceive. 

When  Bronson  graduated  and  came  home,  society  was 
his  to  command,  and  right  royally  he  commanded  it  for 
a  fortnight.  His  clothes  were  copied  by  the  younger 
set,  his  mannerisms  duplicated.  To  have  had  a  single 
dance  with  him  was  a  sort  of  official  approval  upon  the 
social  pretensions  of  any  Plainfield  girl;  to  have  had 
two  in  an  evening  was  equivalent  to  an  Order  of  Merit ; 
to  have  had  more  than  three  —  but  only  Mary  Kent 


44  EGAN 

attained  that  dizzy  eminence,  and  it  was  considered  tan- 
tamount to  an  engagement. 

"  And  now,"  said  Old  Man  Egan,  "  you*ll  put  in  three 
years  studyin'  management,  and  after  that,  you'll  be  an 
equal  stockholder  with  me  in  an  enterprise  worth  four 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  what  with  foreign  war  orders 
and  all.  Kent  and  I've  rigged  up  a  working  agreement 
that'll  keep  this  man  Henderson  quiet  for  a  while  — 
maybe  Kent  and  I'll  consolidate  sometime,  and  if  we  do, 
you'll  have  a  gold  mine.     Kent's  only  got  a  daughter." 

Bronson's  eyes  wavered. 

"  I  can't,  dad,"  he  said. 

"Why  not.'"'  asked  Old  Man  Egan,  without  excite- 
ment. 

"  Well  —  the  war  — " 

"  War?     It  won't  last  another  six  months." 

"  It's  lasted  ten  months  now,  dad.  It'll  go  another 
year,  /  think.  They  want  men  to  drive  ambulances  on 
the  French  front  —  men  who  can  look  after  their  own 
cars.  That's  what  I  heard  —  a  friend  of  mine  wrote 
me  to  come  across.  If  you  don't  mind,  I'd  rather  go 
over  — " 

"  For  the  fun  of  it,  Bronson,  or  to  help  ?  " 

"  To  .  .  •  For  the  fun  of  it,  dad.  And  to  help,  too. 
Why,  with  the  practice  I've  had  in  running  things,  I'm 
just  the  kind  of  man  they  want." 

Old  Man  Egan  sighed. 

"  I  can't  blame  you." 

"Well.?" 

Old  Man  Egan  closed  his  eyes  for  a  moment. 

"  I'll  have  to  ask  Perkins.  It's  too  much  for  me, 
Bronson.     It's    a  question   of  justice.     What's    best, 


EGAN  45 

and  what's  right,  for  both  of  us.  I  can  decide  things 
for  me,  and  I  can  decide  things  for  you,  but  when  it 
comes  to  a  matter  between  you  and  me,  we'll  ask  George 
Perkins." 

The  old  lawyer,  when  consulted,  had  his  answer  all 
ready. 

"  L(?t  the  boy  go,  Jim,"  he  said.     "  I've  been  want- 
ing to  tell  you  something  like  this  for  the  last  five  years. 
It'll  knock  some  of  the  damned  conceit  out  of  him,  and 
he  needs  it  more  than  anybody  else  I  ever  knew.     And' 
that's  all  he  does  need  to  make  him  human." 

So  the  boy  went,  but  Old  Man  Egan  never  spoke  to 
Perkins  again,  except  to  say  "  Good  morning "  or 
"Good  afternoon  "  to  him  on  the  street,  as  long  as  he 
lived. 


TV 

NOW  presently,  when  the  Honourable  George 
Perkins  had  exhausted  all  the  known  formu- 
las of  welcome,  and  the  hard  duties  of  his 
oflSce  had  come  home  to  him,  he  leaned  far  back  in  his 
creaking  swivel-chair,  and  making  a  right  angle  with 
the  extended  and  joined  fingers  of  his  two  bony  hands, 
looked  over  the  top  of  Bronson  Egan's  head  and  out  of 
a  window  badly  in  need  of  washing.  He  was  a  grizzled 
campaigner  of  the  law,  bushy  browed  over  clear  gray 
eyes;  he  stood  six  feet  two  without  a  stoop,  and  with 
authority  lurking  in  every  inch  of  him.  His  dress  was 
proof  that  his  pride  in  his  profession  didn't  extend  to 
his  person,  and  in  sixty-five  years  he  hadn't  even  cared 
to  learn  how  to  make  a  neat  bow  out  of  his  Democratic 
black  string  tie.  But  his  knowledge  of  men  was  even 
greater  than  his  knowledge  of  the  statutes,  and  no  legis- 
lature could  have  repealed  more  than  a  trivial  fraction 
of  what  he  knew. 

The  duty  which  lay  before  him  was  peculiarly  un- 
pleasant, but  the  Judge  wasn't  temporizing  on  that  ac- 
count. He  was  merely  revolving  in  his  mind  the  vari- 
ous methods  of  presenting  the  narrative,  in  order  to 
spare  Egan  the  greatest  shock.  As  he  considered,  and 
his  thoughts  inevitably  ran  backwards,  he  found  him- 
self analysing  Bronson,  and  estimating  that  the  war  had 
improved  him  by  at  least  a  thousand  per  cent,  and 
stopped  another  thousand  per  cent  too  short. 

"  If  anything's  gone  wrong,   and  you're  trying  to 

46 


EGAN  47 

make  it  easy  for  me,  Judge  —  don't  bother.  I've  heard 
some  rumours,  anyhow.  On  the  train.  Is  the  Com- 
pany having  trouble?     Why  didn't  you  cable  me?  " 

"Hm!"  The  old  man  started  guHtily.  "What 
makes  you  think  I'm  trying  to  let  you  down  easy?  " 

**  You  look  it,  that's  all.  Well,  go  ahead.  I'm  not 
a  hog.  Have  we  lost  some  money?  I  thought  from 
the  papers  everything  in  the  country  was  booming. 
But  if  anything's  gone  sour,  I  want  to  know  it.  I've 
got  to  know  where  I  stand." 

The  Judge  found  it  difficult,  just  then,  to  look  at  him. 
*'  I  hate  to  tell  you  so,  but  it  looks  pretty  bad,  Bronson, 
pretty  bad.  I  didn't  cable  you  because  you  couldn't 
have  done  anything  about  it  .  .  .  and  until  March 
there  was  a  chance  of  getting  out  of  it  whole  some  way 
or  other;  and  until  a  month  or  so  ago  there  was  a 
chance  of  saving  soTnething.  I'm  the  executor,  Bron- 
son —  you  couldn't  have  helped  a  mite.  And  it's  so 
involved,  I  couldn't  have  sent  you  even  the  gist  of  it  by 
cable,  not  unless  I  spent  a  couple  of  thousand  dollars. 
So  when  you  wired  me  you'd  landed,  I  just  told  you  to 
come  on  as  quick  as  you  could.  I've  done  my  best  for 
you,  son." 

Egan's  apprehensions  redoubled.  "What  is  it?  If 
it's  as  bad  as  you're  making  it  out  to  be  .  .  .  Please 
hurry  up  and  tell  me.  Uncle  George."  He  was  harried 
by  the  thought  of  failure,  but  consoled  by  the  thought 
of  the  comfortable  residue  which  surely  would  fall  to 
him.  And  a  small  income  without  any  obligation  to 
work  for  it  might  prove  even  more  enjoyable  than  a 
large  income  with  the  need  of  sweltering  under  the  ob- 
ligation, and  going  to  the  office  six  days  a  week. 


48  EGAN 

"  Of  course  .  .  .  Sure  you  won't  smoke?  I'll  have  a 
pipe,  then."  He  continued  to  talk  as  he  filled  a  very 
unfashionable  corncob  with  still  more  unfashionable  to- 
bacco. "  I  don't  know  how  much  you  know  about  the 
fracas  your  father  and  I  had  when  you  went  away.  It 
was  too  bad.  He  asked  me  what  I  thought  about  let- 
ting you  go.  It  nearly  broke  his  heart  to  have  you; 
he  wanted  you  to  stay  in  the  business.  And  he  thought 
you  ought  to,  after  all  he'd  done  for  you;  he'd  set  his 
heart  on  having  you  with  him ;  but  he  wouldn't  say  so 
to  you,  because  he  didn't  want  to  spoil  your  fun.  He 
asked  me,  and  I  told  him  he'd  been  blind.  He'd  brought 
you  up  to  be  a  boy  with  more  possibilities  than  any  one 
else  in  this  town,  and  with  a  bigger  swelled  head.  Not 
that  you  hadn't  earned  it ;  but  you  had  it.  I  told  him 
to  let  you  go,  because  it  might  take  some  of  the  con- 
ceit out  of  you,  and  I  guess  it  has." 

"  Yes,"  said  Bronson.     "  I  guess  it  has." 

The  Judge  bent  over  to  minister  to  his  all-wool 
socks. 

"  So  we  had  a  fracas,  and  I  came  down  town  again  to 
live,  and  ...  I  might  as  well  make  a  clean  breast  of 
it,  Bronson  ...  we  didn't  see  very  much  of  each  other 
after  that.  And  then  last  fall  .  .  ."  The  Judge 
coughed  heavily.  **  He  made  me  sole  executor.  He 
dictated  me  a  little  note  the  day  before  he  died.  He'd 
asked  to  see  me,  but  they  wouldn't  let  him.  Told  me 
he  couldn't  forgive  me,  not  for  thinking  what  I  did,  but 
for  admitting  it.  Said  he  knew  it  was  my  honest  opin- 
ion, and  — "  The  Judge  coughed  again.  "  Oh,  hang 
it  all,  Bronson,  he  said  he  knew,  no  matter  what  had 
gone  between  us,  I'd  take  care  of  your  interests  as 


'  EGAN  49 

if  they  were  my  own.  I  appreciated  that  —  I  cer- 
tainly did." 

"  Why,  Uncle  George.  Why,  .  .  .  why,  /  didn't 
know  you'd  separated,"  said  Bronson,  bewildered. 
"  He  never  wrote  me  a  word  about  it." 

The  Judge  verified  it  with  a  solemn  gesture. 

"  I  imagine  he  didn't  tell  you  because  he  always 
hoped  we'd  patch  it  up  somehow  .  .  .  We  would  have, 
too;  if  you'd  come  home  sooner.  I  was  ready  any 
time,  but  you  know  what  your  father  was  like  when  he 
once  got  an  idea  in  his  head.  Well  ...  as  far  as  the 
will  was  concerned,  I  guess  I  gave  you  a  good  synopsis 
of  it  in  my  letters  last  fall.  The  Vine  Street  house 
went  to  the  City  Hospital, —  Heaven  only  knows  why ; 
they  can't  use  it  very  well ;  they'll  have  to  hold  it  as  an 
investment ;  I  hear  they've  rented  it  to  somebody  — 
and  all  his  cash  and  securities  ( there  wasn't  much  cash ; 
it  was  mostly  bonds)  went  to  the  coimty  orphanage; 
and  he  left  you  all  his  stock  in  the  Egan  Company. 
On  the  books,  the  company  was  worth  a  good  deal  over 
a  million  dollars,  Bronson.  They'd  had  smashing  big 
business  in  war  orders,  and  all  the  experts  said  busi- 
ness would  be  bigger  than  ever  after  the  war.  And 
your  dad  held  the  control." 

The  Judge  paused  to  wipe  his  spectacles,  and  to  re- 
place them  on  his  forehead.  Egan  was  electrified,  but 
his  tone  was  important  enough  to  convey  his  thought 
that  he  was  still  a  large  beneficiary. 

"  You  say  *  on  the  books  '  as  though  you  meant  — 
Has  it  depreciated  a  lot.?  Down  to  what.  Uncle 
George  ?  " 

"  Wait  a  minute.  .  .  .  Along  about  February  last 


50  EGAN 

year,  Bronson,  money  got  pretty  tight.  The  Old  Man 
wanted  money  and  went  to  the  banks.  Never  needed 
'em  before;  the  business  had  financed  itself.  But  now 
he  had  to  expand  in  a  hurry,  and  he  had  to  have  cash. 
And  a  long  time  ago  the  banks  wanted  your  father  to 
play  in  with  'em,  and  he  wouldn't.  So  when  he  wanted 
favours  from  'em,  in  times  like  those,  they  sort  of  held 
him  up  ...  I  don't  mean  they  took  any  mean  advan- 
tage of  him,  but  they  held  him  pretty  close  to  terms. 
Collateral  agreement.  He  didn't  like  it,  but  you  know 
what  your  father  was  - —  if  he  thought  they  expected 
him  to  kick  at  it,  he'd  agree  with  'em  just  as  nice  and 
smooth  as  you  please,  and  try  to  make  'em  feel  ashamed 
of  themselves.  First  off,  he  borrowed  a  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars,  and  he  put  up  as  collateral  a 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  of  Egan  stock.  No  sense 
in  it,  of  course,  considering  the  market  value,  but  he 
did  it  to  show  'em  he  could  snap  his  fingers  at  'em. 
Paid  his  note  when  it  was  due,  and  borrowed  more. 
Left  the  stock  as  collateral  again.  You  see,  the  busi- 
ness was  growing  awful  fast ;  what  it  really  needed  was 
more  capital,  but  the  Old  Man  wouldn't  let  anybody 
else  in ;  wouldn't  consider  it.  They  said  Kent  once  of- 
fered him  $600  a  share  for  a  thousand  shares,  but  he 
laughed  at  it.  And  then  all  of  a  sudden  the  influenza 
got  him,  and  it  turned  into  pneumonia.  Your  dad  was 
sick  a  long  time,  Bronson.  A  man  that  hadn't  taken 
care  of  himself  wouldn't  have  lasted  half  so  long. 
There  was  one  of  those  notes  due,  and  it  wasn't  paid. 
It  wasn't  paid,  and  it  wasn't  paid.  And  the  Old  Man 
never  carried  a  personal  balance  to  speak  of,  anyhow. 


EGAN  51 

And  since  our  fracas,  he  hadn't  had  any  other  lawyer 
to  look  after  his  personal  matters.  Just  took  that 
chance.  So  finally  —  while  the  Old  Man  was  still  too 
sick  to  know  what  was  going  on  —  the  bank  took  the 
bull  by  the  horns,  and  sold  the  collateral." 

Egan's  eyes  were  blinking,  and  his  lips  were  curved  in 
a  faint,  mirthless  smile.  Much  of  the  importance  had 
slipped  away  from  him.  Much  of  the  maturity  was 
ironed  away  from  his  features.  His  eyes  were  as  round 
and  translucent  as  a  child's. 

"The  bank  sold  the  collateral,  did  it?"  he  echoed, 
with  cux'ious  emphasis.  It  was  plain  that  he  consid- 
ered himself  the  victim  of  vast  injustice.  "  A  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  par  value?  "  His  jaw  relaxed  sig- 
nificantly. "  Why  —  that  lost  the  control.  .  .  . 
What  bank  was  it?  " 

"  Kent's  bank.     Citizens  Trust." 

Egan's  throat  was  dusty. 

"Kent's  bank?  Kent's  h&nVl  Why,  I  thought  he 
and  my  father  were  friends !  H'm !  And  who  bought 
the  stock  ?  Do  you  know  ?  "  He  was  elaborately  calm, 
as  befitted  a  young  man  bushwhacked,  but  with  power 
enough  still  left  to  right  his  own  wrongs. 

Judge  Perkins  cleared  his  throat.  "  Eddie  Mack- 
Hn." 

"  No!" 

"  Sit  down,  Bronson  —  Yes,  Macklin  bought  it. 
You  can't  blame  him  for  grabbing  at  what  looked  like 
a  good  bargain,  can  you?  " 

Egan,  after  a  dynamic  turn  around  the  room,  sat 
down.     His  emotions  were  working  on  his  brain  alone; 


52  EGAN 

his  muscles  were  apparently  immune.  The  hot  spot  at 
the  base  of  his  brain,  however,  was  driving  him  towards 
incoherence. 

"  And  you  let  that  little  skunk  —  you  let  anybody 
get  away  from  my  father  what  he'd  slaved  a  lifetime  to 
get?  What  was  mine?  What  does  that  mean,  Uncle 
George.''  Does  it  mean  I've  lost  that  much?  More'n 
half  the  whole  stock?  Does  it?  I'll  see  Kent  myself. 
Why  didn't  Kent  look  out  for  him  in  the  first  place? 
Why  didn't  some  of  his  other  friends  protect  him? 
Why  didn't  you  protect  him  ?  By  gosh,  if  I've  got  any 
influence  left  in  this  town  — " 

"  Softly,  boy,  softly !  Shouting  won't  get  it  back 
for  us.  I  was  in  hospital  with  the  influenza  for  two 
months  myself,  Bronson.  Kent  was  in  Washington. 
And  friends  didn't  count  for  much  just  then  —  it  was 
devil  take  the  hindmost.  If  I'd  been  out,  I  could  have 
fixed  it  up  overnight.  Or  if  he  hadn't  been  so  close- 
mouthed,  he'd  have  had  somebody  who'd  have  acted  for 
him.  He  had  a  whole  raft  of  bonds  right  in  the  Citi- 
zens Trust  vaults.  But  I  wasn't,  and  nobody  else  did 
a  thing,  and  he  was  so  sick  he  couldn't  so  much  as  hold 
a  pen  to  sign  a  power  of  attorney." 

"  I  see."  Egan  was  suddenly  very  dignified ;  and  the 
Judge,  realizing  that  the  pose  was  designed  to  conceal 
a  terrible  disappointment,  continued  to  gaze  out  of  the 
window.  "  So  to  pay  a  hundred  thousand  dollar  note 
for  the  company,  my  father  had  to  lose  three-fifths  of 
all  its  stock  —  a  controlling  interest,  and  worth,  as 
you've  just  said  yourself,  over  half  a  million  dollars 
proportionately  —  for  just  how  much?" 


EGAN  53 

The  Honourable  George  hesitated,  and  finally  looked 
at  Egan. 

"  It  brought  a  hundred  and  seventy-five  thousand, 
Bronson." 

There  was  an  interval  of  several  seconds  before  Egan 
could  grasp  the  fact.  He  was  baffled  and  dazed  by  the 
unexpected  answer.  His  expression  was  now  of  help- 
less incredulity.  He  was  as  shaken  as  anybody  of  his 
age  should  properly  have  been  before  such  a  thunder- 
bolt. 

"  H-how  could  it  go  as  low  as  that.  Uncle  George  ? 
When  you  just  said  .  .  ,  I'm  aU  twisted  up.  I  —  It's 
an  outrage  —  it's  robbery !  I  don't  understand  that  at 
all ! "  His  bravado  faded  into  the  weakness  of  igno- 
rance, and  despair. 

The  Judge  put  down  his  pipe. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  wasn't  around  at  the  time.  But 
after  I  got  out  of  hospital  I  heard  that  there  wasn't 
much  bidding.  In  the  meantime,  there'd  been  a  lot  of 
gossip  that  the  company  was  getting  in  bad  shape, 
and  — " 

"  The  Egan  Company  in  bad  shape !  '*  pleaded  Egan. 
**  Why,  you've  just  said — " 

"  You're  not  listening.  I  said  in  the  meantime, 
there'd  been  a  lot  of  gossip  that  the  affairs  of  the 
company  were  in  bad  shape.  They  were  good,  strong 
ones,  too.  There  was  talk  about  labour  troubles,  and 
bigger  taxes  and  cancellations  of  contracts,  and  all 
sorts  of  things ;  and  this  was  just  when  business  was  all 
'  demoralized.  And  it  was  a  one-man  concern,  and  your 
dad  wasn't  expected  to  live.  And  money  was  scarce. 
/ 


64  EGAN 

And  the  Times  had  printed  a  story  about  reconstruc- 
tion that  didn't  give  us  any  the  best  of  it." 

Egan  passed  a  hand  wearily  over  his  forehead.  His 
shoulders  had  drooped  perceptibly. 

"  We've  got  to  do  something  about  this,  Uncle 
George.  We've  got  to  get  busy  quick.  It  couldn't 
have  been  Eddie  Macklin's  own  money,  could  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  That  is,  not  all  of  it.  He  gave  it  out  that 
twenty-five  of  it  was  his  own,  and  the  balance  was  trust 
funds.  He's  trustee  for  two  or  three  pretty  good-sized 
estates ;  on  the  side." 

Egan  was  struggling  against  the  tide  of  realities. 

"  Well,  even  that  price,  less  the  face  of  the  note  and 
interest  and  costs,  must  have  left  a  balance  of  sixty  or 
seventy  thousand  in  the  company's  favour,  didn't  it.'' 
Where's  that.''     Isn't  that  mine,  anyway.''  " 

"  Not  in  the  company's  favour,  Bronson ;  in  your 
dad's.  It  was  his  stock  personally.  He  borrowed  the 
money  personally.  The  balance  went  to  the  estate; 
and  the  cash  part  of  his  estate  goes  to  the  orphanage. 
He  made  the  note  and  put  up  the  collateral  before  he 
made  his  will." 

Egan  shivered.     No  importance  clung  to  him. 

"  Who  was  running  the  business  when  Dad  was  sick? 
Garrity?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Hasn't  he  made  some  explanation  of  how  he  let  that 
infernal  thing  happen  to  us.''  Hasn't  he  said  any- 
thing.?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.  It  was  your  dad's  personal 
affair,  anyhow.  It  was  even  his  personal  note.  That 
was  the  way  he  ran  the  business.     Never  like  a  cor- 


EGAN  56 

poration  at  all.  I  always  used  to  tell  him  a  man  who 
ran  a  corporation  like  a  personal  enterprise  didn't  de- 
serve the  privilege  of  incorporation,  but  he  wouldn't 
listen  to  me."  The  old  lawyer  wiped  his  spectacles  once 
more,  and  replaced  them  firmly  on  his  forehead* 
"  Bronson,  in  twenty-six  years  your  dad  never  had  a 
strike.  But  a  couple  of  days  after  he  died,  the  direc- 
tors had  a  special  meeting  and  elected  Garrity  president 
to  fill  the  unexpired  term.  He's  been  superintendent 
for  a  good  many  years ;  and  it  looked  all  right.  Then 
inside  of  a  week,  the  men  went  out  in  a  body." 

Egan  was  repeatedly  wetting  his  lips. 

"What  for.?" 

"  More  money.  It  seems  that  Garrity  wanted  to 
fight,  and  the  directors  backed  him  up.  The  strike 
lasted  a  week." 

"I  see.  Who  were  the  directors,  Uncle  George.? 
The  same  seven.?  " 

"  No.  I  got  out  four  years  ago.  Why,  you  and 
Kent  —  and  you  were  both  away ;  Garrity  himself ; 
Macklin  —  he  was  elected  to  replace  your  dad ;  Johan- 
sen,  Richards  and  Garverick." 

"  Eddie?     How'd  he  get  on  the  board.?  " 

"  Eddie  bought  that  stock.  The  old  directors  had  a 
right  to  fill  vacancies  from  the  stockholders,  and  they 
did.     Eddie  and  Garrity." 

"  All  right  —  go  on,  please,  Uncle  George."  Egan 
was  almost  physically  sick. 

"  Well,  the  men  came  back,  but  there  wasn't  a  good 
friendly  feeling.  Things  were  nervous.  On  edge  all 
the  time.  Garrity  was  an  autocrat.  And  right  off, 
the  men  began  to  quit  one  by  one,  and  look  for  other 


56  EGAN 

jobs  —  some  went  to  Kent's,  some  to  Henderson's  in 
Dayton,  and  the  rest  just  drifted  —  you  know  how 
they  do.  Bye-and-bye  there  were  only  two  toohnakers 
left ;  there  were  six  turret  lathe  operators ;  there  were 
four  milling  machine  hands.  There  just  weren't  any 
more  to  be  had.  So  Egan's  was  getting  ready  to  close 
down,  when  all  of  a  sudden  the  deliveries  of  steel 
stopped;  and  every  workman  in  the  plant  just  naturally 
looked  for  another  job.  You  can't  blame  'em,  Bron- 
son.  You  can't  expect  a  skilled  man  to  sit  around  and 
do  nothing,  whether  he's  paid  or  not.  Garrity  closed 
down  the  plant  when  he  had  to." 

"  I'm  not  blaming  him  yet,"  said  Egan  apathetically. 

"That's  right;  let's  be  judicial.  Well,  the  plant 
closed  down  on  November  9,  and  on  November  11  we  got 
the  news  of  the  armistice.  From  that  day,  the  Gov- 
ernment was  interested  in  stopping  production;  not 
boosting  it.     And  — " 

"  Wasn't  there  anything  but  Government  business  ?  " 

"  There  was  a  lot  of  reservations,  Bronson,  but  no 
men  and  no  steel.  Henderson  put  up  a  big  roar  about 
being  ready  for  peace-time  production ;  Kent's  factory 
was  all  ready;  The  Egan  Company  was  paralysed. 
And  then  on  the  ninth  of  December,  just  a  month  later, 
the  city  killed  the  lease."  He  chewed  his  lips  reflec- 
tively. "  The  city's  leased  your  dad  eight  acres  for 
ninety-nine  years  at  a  dollar  a  year.  That  was  when 
you  were  a  baby  —  when  Plainfield  was  crazy  to  get 
manufacturers  here.  There  was  a  provision  that  the 
plant  had  to  be  in  operation  continuously.  All  those 
old  municipal  leases  ran  that  way,  so's  money  would 
keep  circulating  in  the  community.     Thirty  consecu- 


EGAN  67; 

tive  days  of  idleness  operated  as  a  cancellation.  That 
was  because  we  had  a  city  administration  then  that 
represented  labour.  They  thought  it  was  a  cute  trick 
to  put  a  martingale  on  capital." 

Egan  was  again  pathetically  royal,  although  his  fears 
were  increasing. 

"  And  with  my  father  giving  his  house  and  every  cent 
of  his  cash  assets  to  the  city,  they  went  and  can- 
celled — " 

"Yes,  Bronson.  You  can't  complain;  the  city  had 
a  right  to  do  it.  I'm  sorry  to  say  it  was  to  the  city's 
interest  to  do  it.  You  see,  that  land  would  fetch  every 
cent  of  fifty  thousand  a  year  in  the  market,  and  .  .  ." 

"  Who  engineered  it  —  Eddie  Macklin  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  he's  city  counsel.  He's  the  only  one  who 
could  do  it." 

Egan  pounded  the  desk  with  his  closed  fist.  **  I 
wouldn't  trust  that  man  — " 

"  I  know,  Bronson,  and  after  the  year  he  spent  in 
here  with  me,  neither  would  I,  generally  speaking,  but 
you've  got  to  give  the  devil  his  due.  It  was  his  duty  to 
advise  that  cancellation  —  his  duty  to  his  oath  of  of- 
fice. And  when  he  did  it,  it  meant  his  losing  the  twenty- 
five  thousand  he'd  put  into  Egan  stock  himself,  as  well 
as  the  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  he'd  invested  out  of 
his  trust  funds.  It  looks  like  the  one  really  big  thing 
Eddie  ever  did.  No,  don't  blame  him  this  time,  Bron- 
son ;  and  I  don't  know  who  to  blame.  Nobody,  I  guess. 
It's  just  our  cussed  bad  luck." 

When  Egan  spoke,  after  a  long  hiatus,  it  was  with  a 
reminiscence  of  his  father's  stoicism.  During  the  in- 
terval his  mind,  trained  for  the  last  four  years  to  en- 


68  EGAN 

compass  grave  disasters  and  discount  them,  to  receive 
instantaneous  impressions  and  act  on  them,  functioned 
according  to  its  training.  Already  he  was  trying  to 
adjust  himself  to  the  facts.  He  had  already  accepted 
them  verbatim.  It  was  a  great  tragedy,  but  in  recog- 
nizing its  existence,  and  ceasing  to  combat  any  idea  that 
it  couldn't  exist,  he  had  passed  over  the  summit  of  his 
wretchedness. 

"  What's  happened  to  the  plant,  Uncle  George  ?  '* 

**  It's  being  dismantled.  They're  selling  off  the  ma- 
chinery now.  There  wasn't  another  site  anywhere,  no 
orders,  no  organization.  The  directors  voted  to  dis- 
solve. Kent's  going  to  build  a  model  factory  there 
when  labour's  easier;  he's  taken  a  long  lease  at  fifty 
thousand  flat." 

"  Do  you  know  what  the  company's  financial  condi- 
tion is  ?  " 

"  Oh,  there'll  be  nothing  left,  Bronson.  Not  a  sou- 
markee.  The  Government  had  made  some  big  advances 
of  money  that  weren't  earned  yet,  and  the  plant  was 
full  of  half-finished  war-products  that  aren't  only  worth 
scrap  prices,  now  the  war's  over.  The  assets  won't  any 
more  than  equal  the  liabilities,  if  they  do  that  —  even 
counting  the  patents." 

"  Can  the  company  sell  my  '  father's  patents  ?  '* 
There  was  no  belligerence  in  his  tone;  he  was  frankly 
asking  for  information. 

*'  You're  only  a  minority  stockholder  now,  Bronson." 

"  But  didn't  he  leave  ine  his  — " 

"  He  left  you  all  his  interest  in  The  Egan  Company. 
The  company  owned  the  patents,  and  it's  got  to  sell  'em 
in  liquidation." 


EGAN  69 

Egan  passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes. 

"  I  see  that.  .  .  .  What  have  I  got  to  live  on,  then. 
Uncle  George  ?  " 

The  Judge's  voice  was  very  kind. 

"  I  really  don't  know,  Bronson.  You  get  your 
father's  personal  effects,  and  some  stock  in  The  Egan 
Company  that's  worth  about  ten  cents  on  the  hundred 
dollars,  and  that's  all.  Have  you  got  anything  your- 
self? " 

"  Only  about  eighteen  hundred.  WeU  —  it's  just  as 
good  you  didn't  try  to  cable  me  all  that  —  I'm  glad  you 
didn't." 

"  I  thought  you'd  say  so.  .  .  .  What  do  you  think 
of  doing,  Bronson?  " 

He  shook  his  head.  All  his  perspective  had  fled  away 
from  him. 

"  I'll  have  to  think  ...  I  can't  decide  anything  just 
yet.  It's  come  on  me  too  suddenly.  There's  no  hurry, 
anyway.  But  if  I've  got  to  go  out  and  work  for  a  liv- 
ing, why,  with  my  experience — " 

"  Yes,  it  oughtn't  to  be  much  trouble  for  you  to  find 
a  job,  Bronson." 

Egan  regarded  him  blankly.  "Job?  Well  — 
hardly.  I'll  scare  up  something.  Uncle  George.  But  I 
guess  it'll  be  my  own  business.  I  hardly  think  I'd  care 
to  go  to  work  for  anybody  else.  Not  just  yet,  any- 
way." 

The  Judge,  rather  taken  aback,  cleared  his  throat, 
and  decided  to  let  the  subject  drop.  It  disturbed  him 
to  observe  that  there  was  still  a  strong  vein  of  overcon- 
fidence  in  Egan.     "Where  are  you  staying  tonight?" 

"  Plainfield  House,  I  guess." 


60  EGAN 

"  Can  you  dine  with  me  and  spend  the  evening,  boy?  " 

£gan  gave  a  great  sigh,  and  straightened  his  shoul- 
ders. 

"  I'll  dine  with  you,  Uncle  George,  and  be  glad  to. 
But  I  can't  spend  the  evening." 

"  Other  engagements  so  soon?  '* 

The  son  of  Old  Man  Egan  stood  up,  shook  himself, 
and  laughed.  Krought  up  in  luxury,  trained  for  power, 
a  cavalier  of  the  clouds  by  recent  profession,  and 
cast  adrift  in  the  world  at  twenty-five  without  capital 
and  without  prospects,  Egan  could  still  laugh.  The 
first  shock  had  passed,  and  he  was  prouder  —  infinitely 
prouder  —  than  ever. 

*'  Right-o,  Uncle  George.     I'm  going  to  -a  dance." 

The  Judge,  clearing  his  throat,  eyed  the  ribbons  on 
Egan's  blouse,  and  nodded  several  times,  as  though  to 
indicate  that  courage  in  an  Egan  was  a  quality  he  could 
understand.  He  picked  up  his  pipe.  His  hands  were 
far  more  unsteady  than  Egan's. 

"  You're  taking  it  the  way  the  Old  Man  would  like 
to  have  you,  Bronson." 

Egan  caught  himself.  "  I  thought  the  war  was  all 
over.  Maybe  it's  not.  My  own  special,  private  war,  I 
mean.  Well  —  it  doesn't  do  any  good  to  gloom  about 
it,  does  it?  We've  made  our  reconnaissance.  We 
know  the  ground.  If  I've  got  to  start  in  fighting  all 
over  again,  why,  let's  go.     /'m  ready." 


As  Bronson  Egan,  walking  not  so  very  rapidly 
for  a  young  man  on  his  way  to  keep  a  tender 
appointment,  approached  the  comer  of  Vine 
Street,  he  was  gradually  aware  of  a  certain  soft  and 
fitful  illumination,  not  caused  by  any  celestial  body; 
and  as  he  peered  with  quickening  imagination  through 
the  summer  night,  he  came  in  view  of  an  extended  lawn, 
dotted  with  fine  old  trees,  and  lying  dark  as  velvet  be- 
neath the  swaying  tremulousness  of  dozens  and  dozens 
of  Japanese  lanterns.  Japanese  lanterns !  He  had 
entirely  forgotten  that  anything  so  frail,  so  sentimen- 
tal, so  unessential  to  the  prosecution  of  the  war  could 
still  exist.  The  scene  struck  him  as  one  of  the  egg- 
shells of  life,  and  startled  him  by  its  very  delicacy. 

There  was  a  two-foot  hedge  bordering  the  lawn,  and 
as  he  paused  to  look  across  it,  he  was  bewildered  to 
perceive  that  back  among  the  elms,  where  the  Kents' 
house  had  been,  was  a  new  white  mansion,  long  and 
broad,  and  glimmering  now  with  lights  from  every  win- 
dow. As  far  as  Egan's  knowledge  went,  this  was  still 
the  Kents'  property,  although  Mrs.  Kent  had  said  noth- 
ing of  a  new  house;  but  what  puzzled  Egan  was  that 
such  a  house  should  have  been  erected  during  the  war. 
It  didn't  seem  exactly  consistent. 

He  stood  there,  thinking.  Across  the  lawn  he  caught 
a  glimpse  of  elusive  drapery ;  a  girl  was  sauntering  here 
and  there  among  the  trees.  The  whole  picture  was 
somehow  drenched  with  youth,  and  he,  Bronson  Egan, 

61 


62  EGAN 

stood  apart,  looking  in  upon  it,  and  feeling  very  aged 
and  full  of  troubles  about  to  happen. 

He  straightened;  the  girl  was  coming  towards  him; 
he  could  see  her  features  quite  clearly  now ;  and  he  was 
involuntarily  afire  with  the  flame  that  is  youth  before 
age  or  trouble  dampens  it.  As  he  leaped  over  the  hedge 
the  girl  stopped  with  a  little  cry,  and  then  ran  forward. 

"  Why  —  Bronson !  "  she  said. 

£gan  took  her  hungrily  into  his  arms ;  held  her  soft, 
warm  daintiness  to  him  for  the  space  of  a  single  heart- 
beat ;  kissed  her.  The  flame  of  youth,  which  had  surged 
to  its  highest  point  as  their  lips  met,  flickered,  and  died, 
and  was  ashes  in  Egan's  consciousness. 

"  HeUo,  Mary,"  he  said. 

They  stood  there  in  a  partnership  oi  embarrassment ; 
the  man  who  thought  he  had  learned  by  trial  so  many 
of  the  secrets  of  the  universe,  and  the  girl  who  had 
stayed  at  home,  sheltered,  guarded,  innocent.  Memory 
was  rushingly  alive  within  them ;  on  his  last  evening  in 
Plainfield,  and  on  this  same  shadowy  lawn,  they  had 
sent  a  wealth  of  promises  through  clearing. 

"  I  .  .  .  I'm  so  glad  you  remembered,  Bronson." 

"  Remembered  what  ?  " 

**  To  come  early  .  .  .  I'm  so  proud  of  you  .  .  ." 

Egan  flushed.  "  They  used  to  say  the  best  soldier 
was  the  one  that  had  a  wireless  from  his  bayonet  to  some 
girl's  knitting  needle.  ...  I  never  happened  to  have  to 
use  a  bayonet  myself,  but  — " 

"  And  I  can't  knit !  "  They  laughed  simultaneously ; 
unnaturally. 

"  When  did  you  build  this  house,  Mary  ?  " 

"  It's  just  finished  .  .  .  This  is  the  housewarming." 


EGAN  6d 

"  It  looks  like  a  fine  house  —  from  here." 

"  It's  beautiful,  Bronson.     Just  beautiful  — " 

"  Yes.  Your  father  must  have  kept  the  factory  fires 
burning,  too." 

Mystified  both  by  his  words  and  his  restraint,  she 
hesitated. 

"  He's  been  working  terribly  hard  —  first  here,  and 
then  in  Washington  —  if  that's  what  you  mean." 

Frowning  a  little,  Egan  took  the  conversation  in  a 
difi^erent  direction. 

"  You're  not  .  .  .  engaged  ...  or  anything  yet, 
are  you?  "  he  demanded  brusquely,  and  the  girl  shud- 
dered and  laughed  in  the  same  instant. 

"  How  ferocious  you  are !  What  ever  made  you  ask 
that?  " 

"  Something  Judge  Perkins  said  at  dinner,  that's 
all." 

She  stood  plucking  at  the  fabric  of  her  gown. 

"  Tell  me,  Bronson.  Am  I  supposed  to  be  .  .  .  en- 
gaged? " 

"  That  seemed  to  be  the  idea." 

"Who  was  it?" 

"  You  ought  to  know  if  any  one  does.** 

"  Oh  —  Bronson !  " 

"  Well  —  why  don't  you  deny  it?  " 

"  Don't  be  silly!  Let's  sit  down  somewhere,  shall 
we?  "  She  drew  him  beside  her  to  a  circular  bench 
under  a  patriarchal  elm ;  the  radiance  of  a  single  golden 
lantern  fell  across  her  face,  etherealizing  it.  She  was  a 
dark-eyed  little  girl,  black  haired  and  princess-hke, 
wonderfully  delicate  of  feature  and  complexion,  yet 
with  a  spirit  and  vivacity  foreign  to  her  type  which  had 


64!  EGAN 

kept  Plainfield  at  her  feet  for  half  a  decade.  She  was 
two  years  younger  than  Egan,  but  no  one  would  have 
suspected  it.  "  I  didn't  ask  you  to  come  early  to  talk 
about  me ;  I  asked  you  to  talk  about  you.  Now  tell  me 
all  about  it  while  I've  got  you  to  myself." 

«  All  about  what,  Mary?  " 

"  Everything  you've  done  —  everything !  " 

"  I  couldn't  do  that  if  I  talked  for  the  next  twenty 
years.  But  I  drove  an  ambulance  for  three  months, 
and  then  I  got  into  the  French  Air  Service.  I  had  a 
little  over  a  year  there,  and  then  switched  to  ours." 

"  Oh,  we  know  that!  Did  you  .  .  .  did  you  get  any 
Huns?" 

"  Nine  altogether  —  that  is,  nine  oflScially.  Five 
for  France  and  four  for  us.  Actually,  I  got  fifteen. 
But  the  others  weren't  confirmed." 

She  admired  him  tremendously.  **  We  are  proud  of 
you,  Bronson  dear.  You're  the  only  birdman  we've 
got.  .  .  .  And  all  your  lovely  decorations?  Whatever 
were  they  for?  " 

"  I'll  show  you  the  citations  sometime,"  said  Egan.; 
"  Who's  coming  tonight  ?     The  old  crowd  ?  " 

"  Pretty  nearly.  There  are  some  awfully  nice  new 
ones,  too.  Martha's  sweet,  isn't  she?  And  she  dances 
: —  Oh !  That  reminds  me.  Aren't  you  going  to  ask 
me  for  a  dance?  " 

"I  told  you  I—" 

**  Oh,  but  you  could  sit  out,  couldn't  you  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  thought  that  would  be  fair  to  the  other 
fellows." 

"  Stupid !  You  can  have  three  —  just  three.  .  .  « 
What  makes  you  so  solemn,  Bronson  ?  " 


EGAN  65 

"Am  I?  Thinking,  probably.  Not  very  compli- 
mentary, is  it  ?  " 

"  Well  —  if  it's  about  me,  of  course  — " 

"  No,"  said  Egan,  untactfully  truthful,  "  it  wasn't." 

She  pretended  that  she  was  gravely  offended. 

"  You're  not  as  gallant  as  you  used  to  be,  Bronson.'* 

"  Probably  not,  but  I'm  more  sincere.  I've  learned 
a  lot.     Especially  in  the  last  twenty-four  hours." 

She  smiled  straight  up  at  him. 

"  What  were  you  thinking  then  —  and  not  about  me? 
Was  it  somebody  so  very  much  nicer.''  Somebody  you 
met  in  France  —  some  awfully  nice  nurse,  or — " 

**  No.  Just  about  Judge  Perkins,  and  poor  old 
Stanley  Adams,  and  — " 

"  Oh !  "  She  compressed  her  lips  a  trifle.  "  You 
haven't  been  back  long  enough  yet,  I  suppose,  to  hear 
all  those  things.  .  .  .  Mr.  Adams  came  home  last  Jan- 
uary." 

"  I  know." 

*'  He's  on  the  Times  again  —  and  I  might  as  well  tell 
you  —  nobody  that  is  anybody  has  anything  to  do  with 
him  any  more,  Bronson.  It's  .  .  .  it's  awful.  You 
can't  afford  it.  He's  a  disgrace,  to  Plainfield !  You 
just  ought  to  hear  what  Father  says  about  him!  And 
even  at  that,  Father  says  he's  a  perfect  angel  now, 
compared  with  what  he  was  in  New  York." 

Egan's  voice  had  more  than  a  trace  of  obstinacy 
in  it. 

"  He  used  to  live  with  us.  He  was  mighty  kind  to 
me,  Mary." 

"  That  doesn't  make  any  difference.  He's  a  dis- 
grace !     He  — " 


66  EGAN 

"  As  I  remember  it,  he  used  to  be  quite  a  social  light 
when  — " 

"  Well,  they've  suspended  him  from  the  Metropolitan 
Club." 

"Uncle  Stanley?" 

"  Certainly.  For  drunkenness !  So  you  can  im- 
agine what  I  thought  this  afternoon  when  you  went 
down  Main  Street — " 

"  Somebody  had  to  help  him.     I'm  glad  I  was  there." 

She  looked  at  him  firmly.  But  a  little  fearfully. 

"  I'm  beginning  to  believe  you'd  do  better  to  think  a 
little  less  about  Plain"field  and  a  little  more  about  me, 
Bronson." 

"  I  wish  I  could." 

She  stamped  her  foot  at  him. 

"  Bronson!     What  is  the  matter  with  you?  " 

He  shook  himself,  and  forced  a  laugh.  "  Overcome 
by  the  past,  I  guess.  .  .  .  Has  anybody  told  you  lately 
how  pretty  you  are?  " 

"  Oh,  lots  of  people,"  she  said.  "  But  I  never 
thought  you'd  get  that  far  —  not  tonight,  anyway." 

"  Well,  it's  true  .  .  ." 

There  was  a  prolonged  silence.  The  girl,  who  had 
become  extraordinarily  serious,  touched  his  arm. 

"  Bronson,"  she  whispered. 

"Yes?" 

**  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you  —  I  don't  want  you  to 
think  I  haven't  liked  you  more  than  almost  anybody  else 
in  the  whole  world  —  I  don't  want  you  to  .  .  .  oh, 
Bronson,  dear,  /  know  what's  kept  you  so  solemn  —  not 
solemn,  exactly,  but  —  I've  been  thinking  of  it,  too, 
dear,  and  I  like  you  so  much  .  .  .  but  it's  been  so  long, 


EGAN  67 

and  so  many,  many  things  have  changed  and  we've  both 
grown  up,  and  been  away  from  each  other,  and  met 
different  people,  and  — '* 

"Mary!" 

"  I  ...  I  said  I'm  not  engaged.  ...  It  isn't  an- 
nounced yet,  but  — " 

"  Oh! "  said  Egan.  His  jaw  came  forward  the  mer- 
est trifle.  "  Oh !  Didn't  you  know  /  was  expecting 
to  marry  you.''  " 

"  We  were  both  to  be  perfectly  free,  Bronson,  if  —  I 
thought  you'd  probably  have  met  somebody  over  there 
you  liked  better.  I  really  believed  you  would,  Bran- 
son.    I  — "  ; 

"  We  had  an  understanding,"  he  said,  very  quietly, 
"  Had  you  forgotten  it.''  " 

She  tried  gently  to  calm  him;  she  was  herself  not 
calm  enough. 

"  Don't,  Bronson !  Don't  quarrel  with  me,  dear ! 
Not  tonight  of  all  nights  in  the  world !  Can't  you  un- 
derstand? I  couldn't  bear  not  to  have  you  know  it.  I 
thought  surely  you'd  come  to  tell  me  the  same  thing. 
I—" 

"  I've  loved  you,"  he  said.  "  I  always  loved  you. 
Ever  since  the  day  I  licked  Eddie  Macklin  for  you. 
Remember  it?  That's  a  long  time,  Mary.  I  won- 
djsred  why  you  stopped  writing  to  me,  but  /  didn't  for- 
get. You  used  to  be  in  the  air  with  me.  You  — " 
He  tugged  at  his  blouse  pocket,  plucked  out  a  bit  of 
faded,  discoloured  fabric,  and  held  it  to  her.  "  I  never 
went  up  once  without  that  ...  we  all  have  talismans 
or  what  d'you  call  'em  —  sort  of  a  superstition  with 
us  —  I  carried  it  all  the  time  I  was  flying.     That's  how 


68  EGAN 

much    I   let   myself   forget   you   for   somebody    else." 

She  plucked  at  it  nervously. 

"Why  — what  is  it?" 

"  Handkerchief  —  one  of  yours.  I  stole  it  that  last 
night." 

"Really?"  It  was  a  woe-begone  little  object  now, 
but  the  souls  of  nine  Huns  were,  in  a  manner  of  speak- 
ing, oflBcially  bound  up  in  it  (to  say  nothing  of  the  six 
who  had  been  unconfirmed),  and  the  girl  who  had  owned 
it  was  powerfully  stirred.  **  Why  .  .  .  why,  Bronson 
.  .  .  isn't  that  —  that  stain  in  the  comer  — " 

"  Just  a  little  blood,"  he  said.  "  That  was  the  day  I 
got  my  wound  stripe  —  he  caught  me  in  the  shoulder. 
Let  me  have  it  again,  please.     I  want  it." 

"It's  mine,  isn*t  it?" 

"  It  was.  It's  mine  now  ...  So  you  couldn't 
wait  ?  "  His  mouth  bent  in  a  grim  smile.  *'  And  I 
was  counting  on  you  tonight,  too.     Well  — " 

"  Oh,  Bronson,  please  — ^" 

"Who  is  it,  Mary?" 

"  Won't  you  .  .  ." 

"  I  want  to  know.  Don't  you  think  Fm  entitled  to 
that  much?  " 

She  lifted  her  face  to  him,  and  Egan  saw  that  her 
eyes  were  wet. 

"  It's  .  .  .  it's  Eddie  Macklin,"  she  whispered. 

The  son  of  Old  Man  Egan  flinched.  Then  he  put 
out  his  hand.  He  was  pretematurally  calm,  because  he 
had  received  today  so  many  shocks  that  his  nerve  de- 
fence was  all  but  impregnable. 

"It's  not,"  he  said  quietly.  "That's  what  Judge 
Perkins  said,  too  —  but  it's  not  1 " 


EGAN  69 

"  Bronson,  you're  hurting  me !  " 

"  I'm  sorry.     But  — " 

"  Let's  go  in.  Please  let's  go  in.  I  can't  stand  it, 
Bronson.     Not  any  more." 

"  Just  a  minute,  Mary.  I've  come  back  to  marry 
you.  I  need  you  now.  Four  years  ago  I  just  wanted 
you.     Now  I  need  you." 

"  Bronson,  dear,"  she  choked.  "  Don't  you-  under- 
stand English?     I  can't." 

The  son  of  Old  Man  Egan  felt  all  the  violent  af-bi- 
trariness  of  his  nature  leaping  to  the  surface.  He  dis- 
missed the  thought  that  her  father  was  an  officer  of  the 
bank  which  had  helped  to  ruin  him.  He  ignored  the 
fact  that  he  was  without  money,  without  a  definite  fu- 
faire,  without  a  moral  right  to  commit  himself  to  matri- 
mony before  he  had  demonstrated  that  at  least  he  could 
support  himself. 

"  You  wiU,"  he  said.  "  You  will.  Or  else  you  lied 
with  your  lips  when  you  kissed  me  1 " 

They  were  both  on  their  feet;  the  girl  frightened, 
palpitant,  wide-eyed ;  and  Egan  passionately  grim. 

"  Bronson !  " 

He  stepped  towards  her. 

«  Bronson  !     Don't !  " 

She  was  in  his  arms,  helpless. 

"  Never  again  until  you  ask  it,  Mary  —  but  this 
time  — " 

"  Bronson  Egan  !     Don't  you  dare!  " 

"  I've  dared  too  long  to  have  any  fears  left,  Mary. 
And  I  told  you  I  was  counting  on  tonight  .  .  ."  He 
bent,  and  while  she  fought  furiously  against  him, 
kissed  her  hair  —  her  forehead,  then,  as  she  suddenly 


70  EGAN 

went  limp  in  his  arms  —  her  lips.  He  released  her. 
"  I'll  not  ask  your  pardon,  either  .  .  .  Nor  will  I  lay 
a  finger  on  you  ever  again  so  long  as  I  live,  without  you 
ask  it  .  .  .  But  I'll  wait  until  the  minister  has  said 
*  Amen  '  to  you  and  some  other  man  before  I  stop  wait- 
ing for  you,  and  hoping  for  you,  and  wanting  you,  and 
that's  the  solemnest  promise  I  ever  made.  I  can't  lose 
everything  in  the  world,  Mary  .  .  .  We'll  wait  until 
you're  yourself,  and  then  go  in  .  .  .  I'll  not  be  mean 
enough  to  sit  out  dances  with  you  while  there  are  men 
who  want  to  dance  them,  but  — " 

"  I  loathe  you !  "  she  gasped. 

"  No,  you  don't,"  said  Egan,  **  no,  you  don't,  and 
what's  more,  you  never  will,  either.  And  now  if  you're 
steady  again  —  you  poor,  dear  little  girl  .  .  .  let's  go 
in  to  your  party.  Not  steady  yet  ?  I'll  help  you  .  .  . 
There's  my  arm,  Mary  —  you'd  better  take  it  before  I 
put  it  around  you.  Good.  Take  your  time,  dear, 
there's  no  hurry.  That's  it.  You're  all  excited  now 
—  /  know.  I'm  sorry.  No,  I'm  not  either.  But  you 
want  to  get  your  strength  back  for  your  party.  Talk 
to  me  a  little,  can't  you?  About  anything  at  all  — 
anything  but  us.  Talk  to  me  about  anything  at  all,  as 
long  as  you  talk,  and  forget  how  rough  I've  been  to 
you  —  won't  you  ?  " 


VI 

MR.  EDWARD  MACKLIN,  a  plump  and  smil- 
ing young  courtier  in  the  most  zestfully 
tailored  of  evening  clothes,  was  in  the  very 
act  of  arriving ;  and  when  Mr.  Edward  Macklin  took  it 
upon  himself  to  arrive  anywhere,  he  made  the  occasion 
as  memorable  as  he  could.  His  greeting  to  his  hostess 
was  halfway  between  the  salutation  of  a  lover  and  the 
urbanity  of  a  politician  meeting  an  important  con- 
stituent; he  conveyed  a  delicate  impression  that  he  was 
deeply  honoured,  but  that  it  was  desirable  to  shinny 
on  your  own  side  nevertheless. 

"  You  got  my  flowers  ?  "  he  inquired  in  a  discreet  un- 
dertone. 

Mrs.  Kent  gave  him  a  flattered  matron's  smile  of  ben- 
ediction. 

"  Yes,  you  thoughtful  boy.  Don't  you  see  I'm  wear- 
ing them .''  " 

Mr.  Macklin  professed  the  greatest  astonishment  and 
pleasure. 

"  They're  so  much  prettier  than  I  remembered." 
Mrs.  Kent  caught  this  on  the  fly,  and  glowed  over  it. 
*'  Is  Mary  down  yet .''  " 

"  She  just  ran  out  to  the  lawn  a  moment.  Those 
were  lovely  roses  you  sent  her,  too.  She's  tremendously 
excited,  Edward  ...  I  suppose  you  know  Bronson 
Egan  came  back  this  afternoon.?  " 

The   faintest    flicker    crossed    Macklin's    eyes.      He 

laughed  lightly.     "  Is  that  why  Mary's  so  excited.''  " 

71 


78  EGAN 

"  Silly  boy !     He's  coming  tonight,  too." 

"  Indeed !  "     Macklin  was  non-committal. 

"  Yes ;  we  met  him  on  Main  Street  this  afternoon. 
He  said  he'd  come.  And  with  all  the  .  .  .  the  disap- 
pointments he's  haying,  I'm  afraid  he'll  feel  just  the 
least  little  bit  out  of  it.  Passe.  You  know  what  I 
mean.  And  you  two  used  to  be  such  awfully  good 
friends,  too.  So  if  you'd  just  see  that  he  meets  all  the 
new  people,  and  all  the  nicest  girls  — " 

"  Why,  certainly,"  said  Macklin  with  great  hearti- 
ness. "  That's  what  I'm  here  for  —  to  do  everything 
I  can  to  make  you  and  Mary  happy." 

She  gare  him  a  grateful  pressure  of  the  hand. 
"  That's  a  dear  boy.  And  find  Mary  for  me,  will  you  .'* 
And  tell  her  that  people  are  beginning  to  come  now." 

Through  a  thin  stream  of  inevitably  early  guests, 
through  a  little  knot  of  lovely,  chattering  girls,  in  lus- 
cious colours  and  dainty  swirls  of  chiffon,  Macklin 
picked  his  leisurely  way  through  the  French  windows  of 
the  library  to  the  red-bricked  loggia,  and  standing 
there,  surveyed  the  dotted  lawn  before  him.  He  had 
ceased  smiling.  His  mood  was  vaguely  restless,  and  not 
at  all  soothed  by  the  first  strains  of  music  from  the 
house  within. 

"  Ah ! "  he  said  presently,  took  one  quick  step  for- 
ward, and  stopped.  And  carefully  put  back  the  smile 
again. 

Egan  and  Mary  Kent,  coming  up  arm  in  arm  from 
the  lower  lawn,  lifted  their  heads  simultaneously,  and 
beheld  him.  Mary,  with  a  little  exclamation  which 
might  have  been  for  surprise,  or  might  have  been  for 
relief,  dropped  Egan's  arm  and  ran  to  him. 


EGAN  73 

"  Why,  Bronson,  old  man !  When  did  you  get  back? 
It's  .  .  .  why,  it  must  be  four  years  since  you  and  I 
met  each  other !  " 

"  Nearer  fifteen,"  said  Egan  with  enigmatic  good- 
humour.  He  shook  hands  with  Macklin,  not  out  of 
friendship  for  Macklin,  but  of  love  of  Mary. 

Macklin  looked  down,  with  a  proprietary  air,  not  lost 
on  Egan,  at  the  girl  who  was  beside  him. 

"  People  are  coming,  Mary.  Your  mother  asked  me 
to  find  you." 

"Oh!"  she  said.  "You'll  ...  I'm  afraid  you'U 
both  have  to  excuse  me  then." 

"  Don't  give  anybody'  else  my  dances,  Mary  !  " 

"  I  won't,  Eddie.     Don't  worry." 

The  two  men  watched  her  flit  out  of  sight.  Macklin 
sighed  profoundly.     "  Cigarette,  Bronson.?  " 

"  Thanks.  I've  got  a  match  right  here.  .  .  .  Did 
you  get  it  ^  " 

Macklin  inhaled  gratefully. 

"  Yes.  Much  obliged.  Well,  how  does  it  seem  to 
be  back?" 

"  Fine,"  said  Egan,  cordially.  "  How  does  it  seem 
to  still  be  here?  " 

Macklin  leaned  against  a  pillar  of  the  loggia,  and 
laughed  with  abandon.  "  You're  caustic  as  ever,  Bron- 
son." 

"  It  always  did  rile  me  to  be  patronized,  Eddie." 

"  Affects  you  the  way  sarcasm  does  me,  eh?  I  could 
be  caustic  myself  if  I  wanted  to,  but  I  don't  want  to." 

"  That  so?     What  could  you  be  caustic  about?  " 

Mackhn  gesticulated  with  the  grace  of  a  trained  plat- 
form speaker. 


74.  EGAN 

"  Why,  if  you'd  been  home  helping  your  father,  as 
you  ought  to  have  been,  instead  of  going  off  looking  for 
glory,  I  wouldn't  have  lost  every  sou  I  had  in  the  world, 
and  put  myself  in  wrong  with  ray  best  clients.  Confi- 
dentially, my  faith  in  your  blamed  old  Egan  Company 
just  about  broke  me.  It  was  a  shame,  too  —  one  of 
the  best  known  concerns  we  had  here.  I  dare  say  you've 
seen  Judge  Perkins.'*  I  thought  so.  I'm  not  talking 
in  riddles,  then." 

"  I  can't  swear  to  that,"  said  Egan,  thoughtfully. 
"  But  I  think  I  can  understand  what  you  say.  It's  a 
queer  business,  Eddie,  awfully  queer.  Don't  you  think 
so  yourself.''  " 

"  You're  very  touchy,  aren't  you .''  "  He  straight- 
ened his  tie,  and  dropped  his  voice  a  semitone.  "  Would 
you  be  offended  if  I  told  you  I'm  sorry  for  your  loss, 
Bronson?     I  mean  your  family  loss  —  your  father." 

"  No,  on  the  contrary.     I'm  indebted  to  you." 

Macklin  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  puffed  at  his 
cigarette.  The  two  men  were  silent,  listening  to  the 
distant  music,  the  sound  of  gay  young  voices.  Neither 
of  them  appreciated  how  young  they,  too,  might  appear 
to  any  disinterested  onlooker. 

"  We'll  have  to  do  our  duty  and  go  in  soon,  Bronson. 
I  think  it  might  brace  you  up  a  little  if  you  realized  that 
things  in  Plainfield  have  changed  a  good  deal  since  you 
left.  For  one  thing,  I'm  not  quite  so  much  of  a  non- 
entity. In  fact,  I've  done  rather  well,  for  me,  in  spite 
of  dropping  most  of  my  money  in  your  company.  I'm 
in  a  position  to  be  a  good  friend  of  yours.  I  hope  to 
be.  But  naturally,  it  rests  more  with  you  than  it  does 
with  me." 


EGAN  76 

"Why  so?" 

"  Because  I'm  the  one  who's  ready.  I'm  the  one 
who's  always  been  ready."  He  waited  expectantly. 
**  Haven't  you  anything  to  say  to  that  ?  " 

Egan's  eyes  were  wrinkled  at  the  comers.  "  Eddie, 
do  you  remember  the  only  real  fight  you  and  I  ever 
had?  " 

Macklin  grimaced.  "  Considerably.  You  almost 
murdered  me." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  did.  Not  until  after  you  bit  me, 
though." 

"  Bite  ?  "  echoed  Macklin,  with  extreme  doubt.  "  I 
don't  seem  to  recall  that  part  of  it." 

"  I'd  have  bet  you  wouldn't.  Nor  what  the  fight 
was  about.  But  the  trouble  is,  Eddie,  that,  once  bit, 
twice  shy." 

Macklin's  lips  retained  their  curve,  and  none  of  the 
ingratiating  quality  went  out  of  his  voice. 

"  What's  that,  Bronson?  A  polite  method  of  telling 
me  to  go  to  the  devil?  " 

**  It's  as  polite  as  I  know  how  to  make  it,  time  and 
place  considered." 

Macklin  shook  his  head.  "  I  don't  like  that  in  you, 
Bronson.  Maybe  I  did  bite  —  Good  Lord!  We  were 
about  twelve  years  old,  weren't  we?  What  did  you  ex- 
pect, Marquis  of  Queensberry  rules?  Wliat's  the  mat- 
ter with  you,  anyway?  Have  you  been  carrying  that 
spite  around  all  these  years  just  to  hold  up  against  me 
now  when  I  come  to  you,  offering  you  — " 

"  Offering  me  what,  Eddie  ?  " 

"  All  I've  got  to  offer  —  my  friendship  when  you're 
in  trouble." 


76  EGAN 

Egan  fired  the  words  back  at  him.  "  Who  said  I'm 
in  trouble?  '* 

Macklin  stood  up.     "  Why  — " 

"  Don't  misunderstand  me,  Eddie.  I'm  not  planning 
to  start  anything.  But  as  long  as  you've  put  it  so 
plainly,  I  don't  care  for  your  sympathy  just  now,  and 
I  don't  see  any  reason  for  it.  *  In  trouble .'' '  Why, 
you  don't  know  what  trouble  is !  Do  I  look  to  you  like 
a  man  in  trouble.''  What  kind  of  trouble.?  And  to 
keep  on  being  frank  about  it,  suppose  I  were  in  trouble, 
exactly  what  do  you  think  you  could  do  to  help  me  ?  " 

Macklin  studied  the  last  inch  of  his  cigarette.  "  You 
seem  to  think  I've  insulted  you.  It's  a  rather  funny 
attitude  for  you  to  take,  considering  what  I  did  say." 

"  I  know  perfectly  well  what  you  said.  But  I  fail 
to  see  how  it'll  do  either  of  us  the  slightest  good  to  bluff. 
We  aren't  friends,  and  we  never  will  be,  and  you  know  it 
as  well  as  I  do.  Come  on  out  and  admit  it  like  a  man. 
There  isn't  room  for  you  and  me  in  the  same  house,  or 
the  same  club,  or  the  same  town.  So  why  try  to  salve 
it  over.''     I  don't  get  you  on  that  at  all." 

"  They  haven't  taught  you  much  diplomacy  in  the 
Army,  have  they,  Bronson.''  " 

"  Not  a  bit." 

Macklin  stroked  his  chin  reflectively. 

"  Well,  I  seem  to  be  put  in  my  place,  all  right.  I'm 
sorry.  I  am,  honestly.  You  always  were  mighty 
rough  when  you  got  started,  but  this  time  you're  start- 
ing wrong.  I've  liked  you,  Bronson  —  I  always  did  — 
even  when  you  licked  me.  I've  admired  you  a  heap. 
This  isn't  salve,  either.  I  admired  your  going  into 
service  —  something  I  couldn't  afford.     Twit  me  all 


EGAN  .  77 

you  want  to.  I  had  a  mother  and  a  sister  to  support, 
and  you  didn't.  But  I  can  admire  you  for  being  able 
to  go ;  and  you  can't  even  give  me  credit  for  wanting  to 
go,  too,  and  having  to  stay  home.  When  the  stories 
about  you  drifted  back  here,  I  was  proud  to  know  you. 
I'd  give  my  shirt  for  one  of  those  ribbons  of  yours  — 
not  all  three,  but  just  one.  I  admire  you  right  now, 
because  it  takes  nerve  to  say  what  you've  just  said  to 
me.  I'm  not  a  zero  in  this  town,  Bronson ;  and  one  or 
two  people  have  found  it  out  to  their  disadvantage.  As 
your  friend,  I  could  make  some  things  a  good  deal 
easier  for  you.  I've  felt  that  I  owed  you  a  little  some- 
thing extra,  because  of  what  I  had  to  do  as  a  city  offi- 
cial—  although  that  broke  me  completely,  just  as  it 
broke  you.  I  was  figuring  on  going  pretty  far  out  of 
my  way  to  help  you.  But  if  you  don't  care  to  have  it 
that  way — " 

"  I  don't,  Eddie.  Thanks  for  being  frank  about  it, 
though." 

"  Quite  so.  It's  a  bargain.  All  I  wanted  was  to  get 
a  line  on  how  you  felt."  Macklin  brushed  invisible  lint 
from  his  coat  collar.  "  Now  Mrs.  Kent,  who  you'll 
admit  couldn't  very  well  be  expected  to  know  how  much 
of  a  grudge  you've  got  against  me,  asked  me  to  see  that 
you  met  the  new  people  here  tonight.  I  didn't  feel  like 
telling  her  then  that  you  might  not  want  me  to,  and  I 
don't  now.  So  to  save  all  of  us  some  embarrassment, 
would  you  mind  letting  me  present  you  to  a  few  people.'' 
I'll  promise  you  that  nobody'll  cut  you  afterwards 
simply  because  the  introduction  came  through  me.' 
Then  I'll  duck  out.  And  either  of  us  can  explain  to 
Mrs.  Kent  afterwards." 


78  EGAN 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  Egan.     "  Ready  ?  " 
"  Whenever  you  are." 
"  I'm  ready  now." 

"  Allow  me,"  said  Macklin,  courteously  opening  the 
door  for  Egan  to  enter. 

Four  years  ago,  he  had  been  distinguished  among  his 
fellows,  and  now  he  wore  the  gaily-coloured  ribbon-bars 
which  proved  that  he  had  distinguished  himself  before 
the  world.  But  he  had  never  been  popular  in  Plain- 
field  ;  he  had  won  great  local  prominence,  but  he  had  in- 
spired too  great  a  volume  of  envy  ever  to  be  truly  pop- 
ular. Tonight,  it  was  known  to  every  man  under  the 
Kents*  roof  that  Egan  was  deprived  of  his  wealth,  his 
father,  and  his  future.  The  conquests  of  his  youth  had 
faded  into  nothingness ;  his  military  record,  glorious  as 
it  was,  meant  comparatively  little,  now  that  the  public 
curiosity  regarding  the  war  and  military  affairs  was 
sated.  He  had  come  home  to  be  deprived  of  his  balance 
of  power ;  and  as  he  stood  with  Macklin  in  the  centre  of 
the  Kents'  library,  converted  for  the  night  into  a  smok- 
ing room,  he  sensed,  for  the  first  time,  what  sort  of  re- 
ception he  might  logically  expect  from  those  he  had 
walked  upon  in  the  past. 

For  a  moment,  keyed  to  high  excitement  in  the  midst 
of  old  acquaintances,  he  stood  with  Macklin  alone. 
There  were  a  dozen  men  in  the  room  —  but  men  he  had 
known  for  years  — their  conversation  went  on  without  a 
pause.  Egan's  nostrils  dilated  the  merest  trifle ;  Mack- 
lin glanced  at  him,  and  smiled  quizzically. 

"  Bronson ! "  exclaimed  some  one.  "  Bronson 
Egan!" 


EGAN  79 

And  then  Egan  knew,  with  an  inrush  of  relief  which 
nearly  suffocated  him,  that  the  old  acquaintanceships 
were  still  valid,  and  that  one  of  his  greatest  fears  — 
conceived  since  the  meeting  in  Judge  Perkins'  office  — 
was  groundless.  His  misfortunes  had  washed  the  envy 
out  of  mind. 

To  a  man,  the  dozen  rushed  upon  him.  Foremost, 
was  Little  Johnny  Jones  —  six  feet  three  in  his  dancing 
pumps  —  and  after  that  first  terrific  handshake,  even 
Egan's  fingers  were  numb  for  the  rest.  He  tried  to 
speak,  but  there  was  notliing  to  say.  In  his  ignorance, 
he  had  fancied  that  the  loss  of  his  money  might  mean 
the  loss  of  his  friends. 

"  Bronson,  you  stiff-necked  old  Irishman !  Put  her 
there !  " 

"  H'lo,  Bronson.     Where  you  been.''  " 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  old  man.  You're  looking  great ! 
Say,  hunt  me  up  around  lunchtime  tomorrow  —  will 
you?" 

"  Hello,  there,  Bronson.  Thought  we'd  lost  you. 
Sit  down  and  tell  us  about  it." 

"  My  heavens,  man !  How  much'd  you  put  on  — 
twenty  pounds  ?  " 

"  Are  you  out  yet?  " 

"  Get  him  a  drink  —  he's  discharged,  anyway." 

"  Cigar,  old  boy?     Cigarette?  " 

"  Say,  Bronson,  there's  a  girl  here  who's  so  crazy  to 
meet  you,  she  — " 

Macklin  put  his  hand  on  Little  Johnny  Jones'  shoul- 
der. 

"  Do  me  a  favour,  Johnny  ?     I  promised  to  present 


80  EGAN 

Bronson  to  some  of  the  new  people.     You  do  it  for  me, 
will  jou?     I've  got  this  dance  taken.** 

Between  two  introductions,  Egan,  whose  spirits  had 
begun  to  lower  again  at  the  sight  of  Mary  and  Macklin 
dancing  together,  caught  sight  of  the  pretty  stranger  of 
the  afternoon,  who  had  just  come  in  from  the  hall- 
way. 

She  recognized  him  promptly  as  he  approached  her, 
and  met  him  smilingly. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  came,  Lieutenant." 

«  So  am  I." 

She  continued  to  remind  him  of  Mary,  but  she  had 
about  her  a  certain  indomitable  boyishness  which  made 
the  principal  difference,  and  gave  her  a  strength  of 
character  which  Mary  lacked.  She  was  all  superla- 
tives —  the  blackest  of  hair  and  eyes,  the  rosiest  of 
cheeks,  the  trimmest  of  figures,  and  she  was  wearing  an 
amber-coloured  gown  which  Egan  thought  was  the  most 
entrancing  creation  he  had  ever  looked  upon.  Her 
name  still  eluded  him,  but  he  hesitated  to  ask  the  bold 
question  outright.  Instead,  he  explained  again  that  he 
wasn't  dancing. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  sitting  it  out,"  she  alleged  cheer- 
fully. "  It  always  amuses  me  to  watch ;  doesn't  it 
you?  " 

"  Yes,  it  does,"  said  Egan.  "  I  suppose  one  reason 
is  that  most  people  look  so  happy  when  they're  danc- 
ing." 

"  Don't  they,  though  ?  You  couldn't  ever  tell 
whether  they  had  bad  dispositions  or  not ! " 

"  After  what  I've  been  through,"  said  Egan,  foUow- 


EGAN  81 

ing  Mary  Kent  with  his  eyes,  "  it  almost  scares  me  to 
see  a  pretty  girl  in  a  pretty  dress  again.'* 

She  nodded  with  quick  comprehension. 

"  They  look  so  breakahle  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  and  so  angelic."  He  gave  her  a  whimsical 
smile.  "  I'm  not  a  Mormon,  or  anything  like  that,  but 
I  think  I  could  adore  every  girl  in  this  room  without 
an  effort.     No  matter  what  their  dispositions  are." 

**  We  thank  you,"  she  said  graciously. 

He  turned  to  look  at  her  again,  and  liked  her  still 
better.  There  was  a  pleasant  twinkle  in  her  eyes,  a 
friendly  spark  of  companionship  with  no  nonsense  about 
it.  He  approved  of  her,  inclusively.  He  liked  her 
poise,  and  her  naturalness.  Her  mere  presence  made 
him  feel  more  normally  synchronized  to  the  world. 

"  You  haven't  lived  in  Plainfield  very  long,"  he  said 
abruptly. 

"  I  don't  live  here  at  all.     I'm  only  a  guest." 

"Oh!" 

She  laughed  spontaneously.  "  I'm  sure  you  can't 
be  as  disappointed  as  all  that,  Lieutenant  Egan." 

"  Would  you  be  offended  if  I  insist  that  I  am  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  amused.  "  I  don't  believe  I  would. 
At  a  dance,  one  always  makes  allowances." 

"  Not  always,"  said  Egan,  "  and  I  am  disappointed. 
I  was  hoping  you  lived  here." 

"  I've  been  here  long  enough  to  hear  a  good  deal 
about  you,  though." 

"Really?" 
.  "  Oh,  my,  yes !     Mary's  talked  so  much  about  you 
that  I  felt  I  knew  you  rather  well,  even  before  I  met 
you." 


82  EGAN 

"  Oh,  she  has,  has  she?  I  wonder  what  she  could 
have  said." 

The  pretty  stranger  smiled.  "  The  nicest  things  she 
possibly  could." 

"  Then  she  can't  have  told  you  so  very  much  about 
me,  after  all.     That's  quite  evident." 

"  You  say  that  as  though  you're  worried  about  some- 
thing, Lieutenant  Egan.'* 

"  Not  to  speak  of.  I'm  sorry  I  gave  you  that  im- 
pression." 

"  If  it's  anything  7  could  ,  .  .  You  see,  I  know 
Plainfield  as  an  outsider  knows  it.  I'm  in  the  cross- 
currents.    If  I  could  — " 

Egan  shook  himself.  "  I  don't  want  to  bore  you 
with  my  troubles.  I  owe  you  an  apology  for  getting 
into  this  sort  of  thing.  Please  don't  hold  it  against 
me.  .  .  .  By  the  way,  where  do  you  live  when  you  don't 
live  in  Plainfield  ?  " 

She  gazed  at  him  an  instant,  and  unexpectedly 
stepped  back.  "  Let's  try  it  out  of  doors,"  she  said. 
"  Shall  we .''  I  don't  believe  you  like  it  in  here  any  bet- 
ter than  I  do." 

Puzzled,  but  not  unwilling,  Egan  permitted  her  to 
choose  a  path  to  the  lawn.  The  hour  was  yet  too  early 
for  sitters-out;  they  were  practically  isolated  among 
the  trees  and  lanterns.  Egan  discovered  that  the  quiet 
and  the  dim  light  were  soothing  to  him. 

"  Here !  "  she  said.  "  Let's  sit  down  here."  It  was, 
fortuitously,  the  same  bench  on  which  Egan  had  sat 
with  Mary  Kent  an  hour  previous.  "  Now,"  she  said, 
"  suppose  you  just  begin  at  the  beginning  and  tell  me 
all  about  it." 


EGAN  83 

Egan  stirred  out  of  his  lethargy.  "  Why  —  what 
do  you  mean?  " 

"  Of  course,"  she  said  gently,  "  there's  no  particular 
reason  why  you  should  trust  me  —  I'm  probably  silly 
to  expect  it  —  but  all  my  life,  ever  since  I  was  a  little 
girl,  most  of  the  boys  I've  ever  known  have  come  to  me 
to  hear  their  troubles.  I  can't  help  much ;  all  I  can 
do  is  to  listen.  But  I  try  to  understand.  ...  It 
would  have  been  just  wasting  time  to  watch  the  dancing 
and  try  to  talk  ...  I  could  tell  that  in  a  second.  And 
perhaps  I'm  safer  than  some  one  else  would  be,  because 
I  don't  live  here  .  .  .  And  it  really  isn't  as  personal  as 
it  sounds,  you  know ;  it's  like  talking  to  a  tree,  or  some- 
thing, because  I'm  so  used  to  it.  Why,  the  reason  you 
said  you  were  disappointed  I  don't  live  here  was  simply 
because  you  wished  you  knew  me  well  enough  to  talk  to 
me  —  wasn't  it  ?  " 

Egan  slowly  nodded  assent. 

"  You  must  be  a  very  clever  girl.  You've  hit  it  ex- 
actly." 

"  I'm  not.  But  I  understand  men  better  than  I  do 
women.  I've  been  wanting  to  talk  to  you,  too."  She 
waited  patiently.  "  You've  just  come  back  from  over- 
seas ?  " 

"  Only  today.     I've  been  away  four  solid  years.'* 

**  Oh,"  Her  eyes  were  large  and  soft,  but  there 
wasn't  the  slightest  trace  of  sentimentality  about  them. 
Her  voice,  too,  was  reassuring  to  Egan ;  it  sounded  like 
the  voice  of  a  friend  who  could  be  relied  upon.  She 
surveyed  him  earnestly. 

"  And  while  you've  been  away  she's  .  .  .  she*s  got 
engaged  ?  " 


84  '  EGAN 

Egan  jumped.  "  How  on  earth  did  you  guess 
that?  " 

"  I  told  you  I'd  heard  a  great  deal  about  you.  I 
suppose  you  must  think  I'm  frightfully  rude,  but  when 
I  saw  you  up  there  tonight  —  it  wouldn't  have  made 
the  slightest  difference  who  you  happened  to  be,  I  just 
had  to  think  about  you." 

"  This  isn't  very  interesting  talk  for  a  party,"  said 
Egan  awkwardly.  "  No  —  I  don't  think  you're  rude. 
But  if  I'm  as  transparent  as  all  that,  I'd  better  wear  a 
blanket  over  my  face  after  this." 

"  You  weren't  transparent.  I've  known  it  for  two 
weeks.     It  made  me  almost  dread  meeting  you." 

"Why?" 

"  Why,  when  any  man  has  been  big  enough  to  leave 
everything  he  cares  for,  and  then  to  come  back  and  find 
—  As  soon  as  I  saw  you  up  there  tonight,  I  realized 
you  knew." 

"  It's  a  common  enough  occurrence  these  days,  I 
suppose,"  he  said  bitterly. 

"  Maybe  it  is  —  but  only  once  to  each  man.  It's 
just  as  harsh  and  raw  and  discouraging  for  you  as  it  is 
to  any  one  else  who's  had  to  go  through  the  same  thing. 
I  —  I  think  I'll  have  to  admit  something  to  you,  if  you 
won't  be  too  angry  at  me.  I  was  going  to  look  for  you 
especially  tonight." 

Egan  couldn't  understand  why  it  was  that  he  found 
her  sympathy  so  welcome.  He  couldn't  understand 
why  it  was  that  the  altruism  of  a  stranger  should  move 
him  so  deeply.  He  didn't  perceive  that  she  had  that 
great  motherliness  with  which  all  girls  of  strong  and 
gentle  characters  are  born.     He  was  cognizant  only  of 


EGAN  85 

her  sympathy,  which  he  had  won  without  flirting 
for  it. 

"Were  you?" 

She  turned  a  degree  or  two  towards  him.  In  her 
manner  there  was  a  quality  which  he  had  never  observed 
in  any  other  girl,  because  he  had  never  looked  for  it. 
Evidently  she  appraised  him  not  as  the  great  Bronson 
Egan,  but  as  a  young  man  hitherto  without  benefit  of 
the  confessional. 

"  Maybe  you  wouldn't  imagine,"  she  said,  "  that  I'm 
much  of  a  philosopher.  I  like  outdoor  sports,  and 
dancing,  and  music,  and  about  everything  else  that  other 
girls  like,  and  I  came  to  this  dance  expecting  to  have  a 
good  time  —  dance  every  dance,  and  have  a  lot  of  men 
say  nice,  silly  things  to  me,  and  all  that  .  .  .  but  if 
somehow  I  could  make  one  man  —  make  you  —  feel  any 
better,  any  really  happier,  or  any  less  unhappy,  for 
talking  to  me  about  things  that  are  real  —  I'd  have  a 
better  time  with  myself,  and  think  more  of  myself  after- 
wards, than  if  I'd  just  .  .  .  frivolled.  You  see,  it's 
all  such  a  contrast.  Here's  a  whole  houseful  of  people 
enjoying  themselves,  without  a  single  care  on  their 
minds  —  and  here's  you.  And  it  wouldn't  make  the 
slightest  difference  who  you  were,  I  couldn't  stay  up 
there  and  enjoy  myself  when  I  knew  all  this,  and  knew 
you  were  coming.  Please  don't  think  I'm  martyring 
myself.  Lieutenant  Egan.  I'd  rather  be  here  than 
there.  Truly.  Until  you're  tired  of  me.  Dancing's 
something  I  can  do  any  time  .  .  .  There's  one  thing, 
though,  you  ought  to  remember.  It's  about  the  men 
who  went  over.  There's  been  so  much  talk,  and  so  much 
in  the  papers,  about  their  falling  in  love  with  English 


86  '  EGAN 

and  French  girls  .  .  .  I'm  not  trjing  to  do  anything 
but  show  you  how  a  girl  who  was  left  over  here  for  a 
long  time  might  get  to  thinking  .  .  ." 

"  Some  of  them  did  do  that.  Thousands  of  them. 
But  I  didn't.  Even  some  of  the  married  ones  .  .  . 
There  was  a  Canadian  I  knew.  Came  from  a  small 
town,  and  married  a  stupid  httle  girl  he'd  always 
known.  And  went  to  England  and  fell  in  love  with  a 
wonder.  And  didn't  dare  to  go  home,  and  he  couldn't 
have  the  English  girl  anyway.  He  just  draped  him- 
self over  a  Hun  machine  gun  at  Loos  to  settle  his 
problem  .  .  .  But  I  waited." 

"  No  one  cbuld  ever  blame  you  for  being  bitter,  after 
everything  that's  happened  to  you  — " 

"  Bitter  .?>"  repeated  Egan.  "I'm  not  bitter. 
That's  over  with  and  done  for  —  since  the  last  few 
minutes." 

"What?" 

"  Since  you  were  generous  enough  to  give  up  so  much 
of  your  evening  to  me.  You've  cheered  me  up  wonder- 
fully, just  to  know  that  there's  somebody  like  you  in 
the  world.  I  don't  need  to  tell  you  what's  happened; 
you  know  it  already.  But  it's  good  to  have  you  say 
you  know.  No,  I'm  not  bitter  —  but  I've  spent  four 
years  in  learning  how  to  take  care  of  myself.  I'm  going 
to  do  it."  He  looked  at  her,  and  smiled  grimly.  "  And 
I  won't  be  so  very  easy  with  anybody  who  gets  in  my 
road.  If  you  know  so  much  about  me  —  I  suppose 
there's  been  plenty  of  gossip  about  one  part  of  it,  at 
least  —  you'll  know  what  that  means." 

She  was  regarding  him  with  serious  concern. 


EGAN  87 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  —  fight  your  way  back 
to  where  you  want  to  be  ?  " 

"  Every  step  of  it."  He  held  his  lips  compressed 
for  the  briefest  moment,  and  suddenly  burst  out  laugh- 
ing. "  For  Heaven's  sake,  don't  ever  tell  anybody  what 
I've  just  said !  " 

"  Are  you  ashamed  of  thinking  it,  or  just  saying  it?  " 

"  Saying  it.  By  tomorrow  morning  I  won't  be  able 
to  look  in  the  glass.  It's  the  same  old  story.  You 
tempted  me  to  boast,  and  I  fell.  And  I'm  glad  of  it. 
Because  I'm  going  to  make  it  good." 

"  I  believe  you'll  succeed,"  she  said  thoughtfully. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Egan,  "  provided  I  have  luck." 

"  You'll  never  need  much  luck.  You're  not  that  kind 
of  man.  I'm  really  sorry  for  the  .  .  .  the  one  who 
couldn't  wait  for  you.  I'm  a  friend  of  hers,  of  course, 
but  I  can  say  that  to  you,  can't  I.''  Until  a  little  while 
ago,  I  was  sorriest  for  you.  Now  I'm  beginning  to  feel 
that  way  about  her." 

"And  why's  that?" 

"  Because  she's  liable  to  miss  the  chance  of  making 
you  into  a  very  fine  man."  She  said  this  with  so  little 
intent  to  flatter  him  that  he  was  doubly  flattered. 

"  In  what  way  —  that  she'll  miss  the  chance,  or  that 
I  won't  ever  amount  to  a  hill  of  beans  anyway?  " 

She  hesitated.  "  Intuitions  are  awfully  funny  things, 
Lieutenant  .  .  ." 

"  I've  often  played  hunches  myself.  They  usually 
lose.     But  go  ahead." 

She  looked  up  at  him. 

"  If  she  misses  the  chance,"  she  said,  "  you'll  make 


88  I  EGAN 

yourself  a  finer  man  than  she  could.  You  make  me  feel 
that  you've  got  it  in  you  to  do  splendid  things.  Only, 
from  all  I  hear  —  you'U  have  to  be  careful.  You're  so 
awfully  proud  —  so  awfully  confident  —  so  awfully 
mercurial.  I  imagine  you  sometimes  go  ahead  too 
blindly,  without  thinking  things  out.  You've  got  a  chip 
on  your  shoulder  all  the  time.  You'll  have  to  get  over 
that.  You'll  have  to  learn  tact.  And  .  .  .  and  cau- 
tion. But  if  you  do  — "  She  inclined  a  little  towards 
him,  "  you  may  win  back  everything  you've  lost.  Ev- 
erything. Please  think  that  over.  Everything  .  .  . 
I  couldn't  have  gone  to  sleep  tonight  until  I'd  told  you 
that.  I  know  it.  That's  really  what  I  brought  you 
down  here  to  tell  you.  Please  don't  misjudge  me. 
I—" 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that?  "  he  demanded,  tense. 

"  Haven't  I  told  you  so  ?  If  you're  careful  and 
courageous,  you'll  win."  She  was  tearing  at  her  cor- 
sage bouquet.  "  I'll  tell  you  how  sure  I  am  ...  I 
want  to  give  you  something  to  remember  this  by,  so 
that  twenty  years  from  now  you  can  look  back,  and  see 
that  I  was  right,  so  when  I  say  *  I  told  you  so,'  you'll 
have  to  admit  it.  .  .  .  Would  you  keep  it  just  for  that? 
Just  to  please  me.''  " 

Egan,  staring  at  the  little  gold  safety-pin  she  held 
out  to  him,  was  crimson. 

"  Now,  how  in  the  name  of  all  that's  holy,"  he  said, 
"  did  you  know  I'm  just  the  kind  of  creature  to  appre- 
ciate that?  " 

"  Because  of  your  eyes  —  and  your  tongue.  You've 
a  lot  of  imagination,  and  for  all  your  talk.  Lieutenant, 


EGAN  .        89 

I'm  not  sure  you've  ever  grown  up.  Would  it  help  you 
to  remember,  a  little?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Egan.  "  You  make  me  very, 
very  much  afraid  of  you."  He  took  the  pin  gingerly. 
"  Now  I  don't  know  when  anybody  has  played  on  my 
weaknesses  like  that  — " 

"  And  we're  surely  going  to  be  friends,  aren't  we  ?  " 
She  said  it  so  naturally  and  so  pleasantly  that  Egan, 
who  would  have  balked  at  the  first  trace  of  coquetry, 
was  disarmed. 

"  You've  been  a  better  friend  to  me  tonight  than  I 
have  to  myself.  ...  I  hope  you'll  let  me  come  to  see 
you  sometime." 

"  I'll  always  be  glad  to  have  you  —  I'm  at  the  Kents' 
for  all  the  rest  of  this  month,  and  I'll  probably  be  here 
part  of  September  and  maybe  a  part  of  October,  too." 

Egan  didn't  respond.  Across  the  lawn,  a  man  was 
walking  directly  towards  them  —  walking  rapidly,  al- 
most running  —  and  Egan  had  recognized  him  as  Little 
Johnny  Jones.     He  stood  up. 

"  Bronson !     Is  that  you?  " 

"  What's  the  matter,  Johnny?  " 

"  Matter  enough !  Stanley  Adams  is  up  at  the  house 
looking  for  you !  He's  tight  as  a  drum.  Henry  Luke's 
trying  to  hold  him  down,  but  they  can't  keep  him  quiet, 
and  he  won't  go,  and  if  he  doesn't  calm  down,  they'll 
have  to  throw  him  out,  or  call  the  police,  or  something. 
For  the  love  of  mud,  come  on  and  take  him  home.  He 
won't  go  'til  he  sees  you.  Mrs.  Kent's  having  hysterics 
all  over  the  place !  " 

"  Till  tomorrow ! "  said  Egan  over  his  shoulder. 


vn 

THE  orchestra,  following  its  instructions,  was 
playing  in  fortissimo  the  loudest  jazz  in  aU 
its  loud  repertoire  when  Egan  hurried  into  the 
house;  and  there  were  still  nmny  couples  dancing,  by 
the  feverish  request  of  their  hostess.  Egan  noted,  in 
his  swift  passing,  that  the  faces  of  most  of  the  men 
were  stem-set,  and  that  the  faces  of  most  of  the  girls 
reflected  apprehension ;  and  even  although  he  could 
hear,  above  the  tumult  of  the  orchestra,  the  ring  of 
voices  from  the  smoking-room,  and  could  judge  of  the 
confusion  caused  by  poor  old  Stanley  Adams,  uninvited 
and  irresponsible,  he  was  still  mightily  scornful  of  the 
whole  party  —  scornful  that  forty  adult  males  couldn't 
handle  a  trifling  emergency  like  this  without  calling  for 
Bronson  Egan.  All  they  could  conceive  was  violence. 
They  had  no  adaptability.  And  what  was  the  fuss 
about,  anyway?  Why  should  it  have  caused  more  than 
an  instant's  flurry.  What  delicate  susceptibilities  these 
townsfolk  had !  It  came  to  him,  suddenly,  that  perhaps 
only  he,  out  of  aU  that  gathering,  was  trained  in  a 
school  in  which  the  emergency  was  the  usual  thing. 
To  have  to  send  for  a  specified  individual  in  order  to 
remove  one  undesired  spectator! 

As  he  reached  the  library,  with  Little  Johnny  Jones 
at  his  heels,  he  saw  Adams,  guarded  by  half  a  dozen  re- 
luctant volunteers,  at  bay  before  the  fireplace.  Henry 
Luke,  whose  undergraduate  nickname  had  been  "  Dea- 
con," was  endeavouring  to  appeal  to  his  reason. 

90 


EGAN  91 

"  There!  "  roared  Adams.  "  There  he  is  — he  is  so! 
Lied  to  me,  didn'  you  —  you  .  .  .  Told  you  he's  here, 
'n  here  he  is !     Lied  to  me  — " 

"  Uncle  Stanley ! "  Egan  had  him  by  the  arm. 
"  You  hush  yourself  up !  Here  I  am.  I  was  down  on 
the  lawn.  Just  going  home  —  just  this  minute. 
You're  coming  with  me,  aren't  you?  "  He  was  wholly 
unconscious  of  the  reaction  of  the  men  about  him.  "  I 
just  dropped  in  to  take  you  home.  Uncle  Stanley.  You 
and  I  are  going  together.  Aren't  we.''  You  bet  we 
are.     Where's  your  hat?  " 

"  Here's  his  hat,  Bronson.  For  Heaven's  sake,  if 
you  can  keep  him  from  shouting  on  the  street  — " 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  Henry !  Right  you  are.  Uncle  Stan- 
ley. .  .  .  Who's  going  to  take  his  other  arm?  " 

**  I've  got  him,  Bronson."  That  was  from  Little 
Johnny  Jones,  and  no  one  else  had  moved.  "  Guess  you 
forgot  I  was  here,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  did.  Come  on,  then.  Where  does  he 
live?" 

"  Same  place  I  do." 

Together,  they  steered  him,  tractable  enough  now, 
out  through  that  silent,  intolerant  lane  of  men ;  to^ 
gether  they  passed  the  terrified,  unforgiving  scrutiny 
of  their  hostess,  receiving  lavender  salts  in  the  hallway ; 
together  they  guided  the  journalist  out  to  the  sweet 
night  air. 

"  You're  a  peach,  Johnny,"  said  Egan.  "  You're  a 
prince.     Watch  that  step,  there  .  .  ." 

"  I've  got  it.     Turn  right." 

"  I  ...  I  am  all  ego  .  .  .  but  not  egotism,"  re- 
marked Adams,  quite  distinctly.     "  Stood  before  Spinx 


92  ,    EGAN 

.  .  .  Shphink  .  .  .  oh,  that  damn'  concrete  bird  in 
Egypt  .  .  .  Sphinx  ...  at  midnight,  an'  all  ego  lef 
me.  Un'stan'?  Lef  me.  Quit  me  cold.  'At  un'- 
stood  by  every  gen'leman  present?  Call  next  case.. 
Hurray  for  crime !  " 

"  Where  do  you  live,  Johnny?  " 

"  1630  Vine." 

Egan  stumbled  inadvertently. 

"Well,  I'll  be  hanged!" 

"  Oh  —  that's  so,  isn't  it  ?  I  thought  you  knew  it. 
Why,  yes,  it's  leased  to  a  Mrs.  McCain  to  run  for  a 
boarding-house,  and  it's  a  pretty  decent  old  shack  in 
a  good  location,  you  know,  so  I  moved  in  a  week  ago. 
So'd  he,  just  about  the  same  time.  Say,  he's  a  bird, 
isn't  he?" 

"  Bird?  Wha's  bird  do  besides  sing?  I  like  to  hear 
li'l  birds  sing,"  remarked  Mr.  Stanley  Adams.  "  That 
damn'  concrete  Egypt  bird  .  .  .  Spink  .  .  .  ol'  Billy 
Napoleon  shot  her  nose  off,  but  look  a'  her  mouth! 
Gen'lemen,  on  my  bended  knees  I  pray  you,  look  a'  her 
mouth.  Mona  Lisa.  Tha's  all  the  'Talian  I  know. 
Mona  Lisa.  You  think  I'm  'Talian  t'  hear  me  speak 
language,  would  you  not?  Yes,  you  would  not.  So'm 
I.  Riddle  of  ages,  Mona  Lisa.  I  mean  Spink.  Con- 
crete riddle  bird.  .  .  .  Pers'nally,  I  consider  dirty  Irish 
trick  shoot  off  her  nose.  Never  shot  off  lady's  nose 
all  m'  life.  Wouldn'  know  wha'  do  with  it  after  —  I  — 
shot  —  it  —  off.  Can't  wear  it  on  watch  chain. 
Wha'd  he  shoot  her  off  for?  Bronson  —  le's  get  Ouija 
board  —  ask  Tommy  Napoleon  why  he  shot  off  nose. 
WoosH !  "  This  was  mere  joviality  rushing  to  the  sur- 
face. 


EGAN  9S 

"  He's  a  lot  quieter  now,"  said  Little  Johnny  Jones. 
**  When  we  get  in,  I'll  slip  downstairs  and  make  him  a 
cup  of  coffee — " 

"  Oh!     Are  you  onto  that,  too,  Johnny?  ** 

"  Rather.  I've  lived  in  the  same  house  with  him  for 
a  week.  It's  like  paregoric  to  a  baby.  Here  we  are. 
Column  right,  march!  .  .  .  Look  natural,  Bron- 
son?  " 

They  were  going  up  the  front  walk  of  Egan's  boy- 
hood home,  and  the  cast-iron  stags  were  still  on  guard, 
and  looking  very  familiar.  But  Egan  had  no  oppor- 
tunity to  be  sentimental. 

Now  after  the  transgressor  had  been  flooded  with 
bitter  black  coffee  and  put  away  comfortably  for  the 
night  —  which  was  no  idle  task  —  Little  Johnny  Jones 
and  Egan  sat  in  the  room  formerly  reserved  for  dis- 
tinguished visitors  of  the  highest  rank,  and  went  into 
executive  session.  It  was  Johnny's  room  now,  and  char- 
acteristic of  him.  Excessively  disordered,  it  still  re- 
tained the  marks  of  a  broad  and  cheerful  personality; 
from  the  luxury  and  brilliance  of  the  unnumbered  neck- 
ties hanging  from  the  electric  light  fixture,  to  the  heap 
of  miscellaneous  treasures  on  the  centre  table.  Every 
available  inch  of  space  was  tenanted ;  a  handsome  hat- 
box  served  as  receptacle  for  silver  toilet  articles,  let- 
ters, golf  balls,  and  cigarettes  ;  clothing  was  everywhere ; 
tobacco  was  nowhere  out  of  reach ;  and  every  corner 
fairly  dripped  with  matches.  The  room  was  redolent 
of  the  very  spirit  of  youth,  which  admits  no  minor 
responsibilities.  Egan  hadn't  felt  so  thoroughly  at 
home  for  four  years. 


^  EGAN 

"  Know  what  you're  going  to  do,  Bronson  ?  "  asked 
Jones,  finally. 

Egan  yawned.  "  Not  yet,  Johnny.  Get  out  of  uni- 
form as  quick  as  I  can,  and  start  something  going." 

"  Got  a  place  to  stay  yet  ?  " 

"  No.     Hadn't  even  thought  about  it." 

"Why  don't  you  come  and  live  here?  There's 
'plenty  of  rooms  vacant  —  the  one  you  used  to  sleep  in 
isn't  taken  yet.  Have  that.  I  think  she  wants  fifteen 
a  week  for  it." 

Egan  started  to  laugh  at  the  price,  but  desisted,  out 
of  consideration  for  Johnny. 

"  That  sounds  reasonable ;  I  might  do  it." 

After  a  prolonged  silence.  Little  Johnny  Jones  burst 
out :  **  Bronson,  how  much  rough  stuff  can  you 
stand?" 

"  What  do  you  mean?  ** 

"  I'm  afraid  some  of  the  crowd  has  got  it  in  for  you. 
,  .  .  Not  ours,  exactly,  but  the  older  crowd.  I  don't 
want  to  hurt  your  feelings,  Bronson,  but  you  ought  to 
know  that  quite  a  few  people  aren't  disappointed  to 
have  you  in  dutch." 

"  I  guessed  that." 

"  I'm  simply  warning  you,  old  man.  Don't  ask  too 
many  favours.     Understand?" 

"  Easily.     I  didn't  intend  to." 

**  And  about  the  social  end  of  things  —  are  you  go- 
ing to  be  supersensitive  ?  " 

"  I  doubt  it,  Johnny." 

"  Because  —  oh,  thunder !  You've  got  eyes  in  your 
head,  haven't  you?  Money  means  more  than  it  used 
to    in   Plainfield;    family   means    more.     You   mustn't 


EGAN  96 

let  it  get  on  your  nerves.  .  .  .  We're  all  back  of  you, 
but-^" 

"  Well,"  said  Egan,  "  as  far  as  I've  been  able  to  find 
out,  money's  the  standard  for  just  two  kinds  of  peo- 
ple —  the  kind  that  got  it  without  working  for  it, 
and  the  kind  that's  scared  to  death  for  fear  they  never 
mil  get  it.     That's  nothing.     It  doesn't  interest  me." 

Jones  motioned  towards  the  door.  "  And  about  that 
fellow  across  the  hall.  He  doesn't  belong  any  more. 
Of  course  I  know  how  you  feel  about  him,  but  you  know 
what  happened  tonight  —  well,  that's  typical.  And  a 
lot  of  people  won't  appreciate  what  you  think  about 
him." 

Egan  failed  to  respond.  At  length :  "  What  do  you 
know  about  Eddie  Macklin?  " 

"  Finest  chap  in  town,"  said  Jones  promptly.  "  He 
didn't  use  to  be,  but  he's  developed  wonderfully.  Ever 
since  that  loss  he  took  on  Egan  Company  stock,  he's 
a  sort  of  popular  hero.  And  a  good  friend  of  yours, 
too." 

"  Not  exactly." 

"  I  know  better,  Bronson.  He's  been  boosting 
you  — " 

At  this  juncture,  the  door  opened,  and  Stanley 
Adams  came  wandering  in,  clad  in  pajamas  and  a  gor- 
geous dressing-gown.  He  was  painfully  unsteady,  but 
partly  sober,  after  a  brief  sleep,  and  his  eyes  were 
glowing  with  the  brilliance  of  his  stimulation. 

"  Hello,  boys." 

The  two  exchanged  glances. 

"  Sit  down,  Adams.     Have  something  to  smoke?  " 

"  Thanks  ...  oh,  my  head !     Go  ahead  and  bust, 


96  EGAN 

confound  you,  and  get  the  thing  finished!  Don't  let 
me  interrupt  you  —  what  were  you  talking  about  ?  " 

«  Eddie  Macklin." 

The  journalist  nodded. 

"'Not  a  bad  topic.  No,  I'll  take  that  back.  A  very 
bad  topic.  Ugh!  Either  this  is  rotten  shag  you  fel- 
lows smoke,  or  else  I'm  off  colour  .  .  .  well,  what  about 
him.?" 

"  I'm  telling  Bronson  that  Eddie's  a  real  citizen." 

The  journalist  made  a  wry  face. 

"  You'll  excuse  me,  boys,  if  I  deliver  my  famous  lec- 
ture on  the  nonentity  of  the  non-existent  nought.?  .  .  . 
Thank  you.  I  am  occupied  by  a  large  quantity  of 
liquor,  boys,  and  I  lecture  best  when  slightly  wafted 
aloft.  .  .  .  Johnny,  my  lad,  the  only  virtue  in  life  is 
good  judgment.  Ergo,  you're  drenched  in  vice.  Your 
judgment  is  punk.  You  think  a  thing  is  true  simply 
because  it  agrees  with  your  own  experience.  There  is  a 
difference  between  truth  and  accuracy.  You  are  ac- 
curate, Johnny,  but  untruthful.  Don't  ask  me  what  I 
mean  —  I  don't  know.  I  will  now  proceed,  my  dear 
hearers,  to  chapter  Two.  Life.  Life  is  like  a  series  of 
spiral  springs,  set  vertically  —  we  go  'round  the  loops, 
generation  after  generation  —  sometimes  going  higher, 
sometimes  going  lower.  Lower.  Where  was  I?  Oh, 
yes.  If  you're  going  up,  you  have  to  keep  going  around 
the  loops  —  before  you  can  get  up,  you  have  to  go  down, 
but  when  you're  at  the  bottom  of  a  higher  loop,  you're 
higher  up  than  you  were  at  the  bottom  of  the  lower 
loop  .  .  .  rCest-ce  pas?  French.  Eventually,  all  of 
us  will  be  at  the  top  of  the  spring.  Millennium.  Hang 
the  clergy.     Q.  E.  D." 


EGAN  97 

Jones  and  Egan  looked  at  each  other. 

"  There's  nothing  new  under  the  sun.  Easter  isn't 
a  Christian  holiday  —  it's  a  pagan  festival  to  celebrate 
the  birth  of  spring  and  the  death  of  winter.  John  D. 
Rockefeller  isn't  a  novelty  —  he's  just  another  Solo- 
mon. Solomon  was  the  first  president  of  a  trust  com- 
pany. Read  your  Bible.  Somebody  stole  mine  nine- 
teen years  ago,  and  I  can't  remember  to  buy  another. 
.  .  .  There's  nothing  new.  Not  even  a  new  Bible  for 
me.  All  is  unchangeable,  except  human  nature,  but 
there's  nothing  new.  A  dog  walks  around  before  he 
lies  down ;  his  wild  ancestors  did  it  to  mat  down  the 
grass.  Human  nature  is  eternal.  I  have  stood  before 
the  Sphinx  at  midnight,  and  there's  no  answer.  Civ- 
iUzation  was  born  in  Egypt  more  years  before  Christ 
than  we've  lived  after  it  —  four  thousand  years  of 
veneer  washed  off  by  a  married  man  kissing  another 
man's  wife,  or  by  the  distant  jingle  of  a  dollar  bill. 
If  the  Ten  Commandments  were  obeyed,  there  could  be 
no  wealth,  and  no  modern  improvements.  Eddie  Mack- 
lln's  a  pole-cat,  net,  and  if  Bronson  had  been  omniscient, 
he'd  have  choked  him  to  death  fifteen  years  ago  when 
he  had  a  chance.     N'est^e  pas?     French." 

Little  Johnny  Jones  was  interested. 

"  What  makes  you  think  so,  Adkms  ?  " 

"Because  the  world  is  just,"  said  the  journalist, 
swaying  gently  from  side  to  side.  "  Justice  is  con- 
science. Everything  depends  on  conscience.  Ergo,  on 
justice.  Q.  E.  D.  If  there's  a  God,  He's  got  to  be 
just  —  love  has  got  to  be  just  —  everything's  got  to 
be  just.  Justice  is  logic.  If  the  world  isn't  logical, 
we'd  better  go  jump  off  the  dock.     Life  hereafter  — 


98  EGAN 

spiral  spring.  If  you've  been  good  in  this  world,  you 
go  up  a  loop  next  time.  Bad,  you  go  down  a  loop. 
Reincarnation  —  all  pagans  believe  it.  The  Turk's 
harem.  The  Indian's  happy  hunting  ground.  Eddie's 
going  to  be  reincarnated  into  a  snapping  turtle  with  a 
Mona  Lisa  smile.  I've  stood  before  the  Sphinx  at 
midnight  — " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Egan.  "  The  Cooks  ought  to 
give  you  a  commission.  Uncle  Stanley.  But  Eddie's 
clever,  isn't  he?  " 

"  Clever?  Hah !  'Course  he's  clever  —  as  things  go. 
Man's  got  to  be  either  damn  clever  or  damn  stupid  to 
be  a  politician.  But  clever?  In  the  larger  sense? 
Boys,  after  I  stood  before  the  Sphinx  at  midnight,  I 
entered  the  pyramid  of  Cheops.  The  Egyptian  thought 
the  immortality  of  the  soul  depended  on  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  body.  He  salted  his  relatives.  Preserved 
them.  Pickled  them.  Not  as  I  am  pickled,  but  per- 
manently —  ah,  the  Egyptians  !  Pyramid  was  to  make 
sure  ol'  Ferdie  Cheops  wasn't  disturbed.  Then  along 
come  the  Cook's  tourists.  Hunt  for  the  door.  Door 
ought  to  be  in  middle  of  one  side,  down  on  the  ground 
level  —  n'est-ce  pas?  French.  Was  it?  No.  Fifty 
feet  up,  thirteen  feet  left  centre.  Took  'em  four  thou- 
sand years  to  find  the  latch-key.  Crawl  in  on  hands 
and  knees  to  the  lobby, —  had  to  tunnel  into  it ;  blocked 
up  by  stones  that  can't  be  blasted  with  TNT  —  mono- 
lith in  marble,  two  sarcophagi.  Cheops  and  Mrs. 
Cheops  ?  Nix.  Poof !  Vanished.  Observe,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  no  cuffs  or  moustache  to  deceive.  Some  say 
the  hand  is  quicker  than  the  eye.  Now  you  see  the 
Cheopses ;  now  you  don't.     Lift  the  middle  shell.     An- 


EGAN  99 

other  dollar  gone.  But  they  found  the  Cheops  family 
up  in  an  attic  through  the  ceiling.  Four  thousand 
years!     Clever?     Eddie  Macklin  clever?     Hell!" 

"  He's  a  good  booster  for  Bronson  though." 

"  He's  a  crook  and  a  hypocrite  and  a  blackguard, 
and  I've  believed  from  the  time  he  got  a  strangle-hold 
on  the  Egan  Company,  he  strangled  it.  I  believe  he'd 
tomahawk  his  grandmother  for  a  side-bet  of  a  dollar 
and  a  quarter.  I  believe  he  juggled  you  folks  on  your 
land,  and  I  always  will.  Apart  from  that,  I  believe 
he's  as  pure  in  heart  as  Galahad  was  when  he  was 
asleep !  " 

"  What  makes  j^ou  think  so  ?  "  asked  Egan. 

"  This."  Adams  tapped  his  forehead.  "  Little  grey 
clusters  of  brain,  Mr.  Stanley  Adams,  sole  proprietor 
and  general  manager.  .  .  .  Every  time  I  think  of  that 
damn  Spinx  I  get  sleepy.  If  you  two  pragmatists  will 
excuse  me,  I  am,  with  renewed  assurances  of  my  most 
respectful  consideration  — " 

"  It's  too  far  to  walk  back  to  the  hotel,"  said  Little 
Johnny  Jones.  "  And  it's  two  o'clock.  Bunk  here 
with  me,  why  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Good  idea,"  said  Egan. 

"  Then  you  can  see  Mrs.  McCain  in  the  morning. 
All  right.     Let's  call  it  a  day." 

"  Fine."  Egan  yawned  whole-heartedly.  "  I  got 
pretty  well  toughened  up  in  service,  but  believe  me,  I'm 
tired.  It's  been  some  day!  .  .  .  Oh,  by  the  way, 
Johnny,  do  you  happen  to  know  the  name  of  that  girl 
I  was  talking  to  when  you  came  out  to  get  me?  " 

"  Yes.     She's  Martha  Henderson.     Lives  in  Dayton. 


100  EGAN  / 

House-guest  of  the  Kents.  Seems  like  a  nice  girl, 
doesn't  she?  " 

"  Hm,"  said  Egan,  thoughtfully,  as  he  thrust  a  gold 
safety-pin  into  the  pocket-flap  of  the  blouse  he  had  just 
taken  off.     "  Yes,  she  does." 

No  wonder  her  features  had  been  familiar  to  him. 


VIII 

HE  woke  in  the  early  morning,  fully  refreshed, 
and  for  a  time  lay  in  half-conscious  revery, 
prolific  of  golden  memories  and  still  more 
golden  plans.  Little  Johnny  Jones  was  still  suhdued 
in  sleep ;  Egan  watched  him  for  a  minute  or  two,  grinned, 
and  crept  out  quietly  to  the  nearby  bath.  Half  an 
hour  later,  he  had  renewed  his  acquaintance,  in  pass- 
ing, with  the  gilt  reception-room  and  the  sohd  mahogany 
exhibit,  and  he  was  down  on  the  lawn  by  the  cast-iron, 
stags,  reviewing  his  youth. 

It  was  not  yet  seven  o'clock,  and  all  the  world  was 
clean-washed,  and  cool  and  fragrant.  Despite  his 
monumental  perplexities,  Egan  had  responded  buoy- 
antly to  the  morning;  his  heart  was  lightened,  and  the 
weariness  was  absent  from  his  eyes.  Standing  before 
the  familiar  old  stable,  he  chuckled  at  the  reminiscences 
which  came  to  meet  him ;  and,  in  his  almost  automatic 
adjustment  to  his  present  circumstances,  felt  scarcely 
a  pang  to  think  that  all  this  property  might  have  been 
his.  That  pang  would  come  later,  but  there  was  no 
accommodation  in  his  heart  for  it  now.  He  was  still 
chuckling  jovially  when  from  behind  him  he  heard  a 
smothered  little  exclamation,  and  turned  to  discover 
its  source. 

A  few  feet  above  him,  on  the  slope  of  the  lawn  lead- 
ing down  to  the  stables,  was  a  girl  he  had  never  seen 
before.     She  had  evidently  just  come  out  of  the  house, 

and  had  been  in  full  career  when  the  sight  of  Egan  had 

101 


102  EGAN 

stopped  her,  for  her  attitude  was  that  of  suddenly  ar- 
rested action.  She  was  an  appealing  little  girl  of  per- 
haps seventeen,  an  ash-blonde,  with  big  and  childlike 
eyes,  and  she  was  wearing  a  gingham  dress,  very  sim- 
ple and  unornamented,  which  Egan  thought  was  very 
becoming  to  her. 

"  Good  morning,"  he  said,  cheerfully. 

"  Oh  —  good  morning."  Her  return  of  the  courtesy 
was  shy.     "  Did  you  —  want  anything.''  " 

Egan's  smile  was  far-reaching.  "  Are  you  the  lady 
of  the  house,  then  .'*  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  to  reprove  the  sacri- 
lege.    "  That's  Mrs.  McCain.     I'm  Miss  McCain." 

He  bowed  to  it.  "  I'm  glad  to  meet  you.  I'm  Lieu- 
tenant Egan  .  .  .  er  .  .  .  no,  that  was  last  week. 
Mister  Egan  this  week." 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried.  "  ReaUy  ?  "  Her  eyes  were  wider 
yet  as  she  absorbed  the  number  of  his  decorations. 
**  Why,  you  used  to  own  this  place,  didn't  you  ?  " 

Egan  winced.  "  My  father  did.  And  now  I'll  be 
satisfied  with  one  small  room  in  it.  That  is,  I  want  to 
live  here  again  if  I  can.  Do  you  happen  to  know  if 
it's  possible?  " 

"  I'm  sure  it  is,"  she  said  breathlessly.  He  gathered 
that  she  was  almost  always  breathless.  "  I  know  it  is. 
But,  how  on  earth  did  you  get  here  so  early  in  the  morn- 


ing 


?  » 


"  Oh,  I  stayed  last  night  with  Mr.  Jones." 

*'  Oh,  yes."     She  came  a  few  steps  nearer  to  him. 

**  I've  heard  so  much  about  you.  Lieutenant  Egan.  .  .  . 

I  used  to  see  you  sometimes,  too,  when  I  was  a  little  bit 


EGAN  103 

of  a  girl,  and  you  were  in  high-school  .  .  .  you  don't 
remember  me,  of  course  — " 

"  Oh,  of  course  I  do,"  Egan  perjured  himself  mag- 
nificently; and  had  his  reward  in  her  inspired  blushes. 
**  I  remember  you  just  as  well  — " 

"Honestly?" 

"  I  might  not  have  remembered  your  name,  but  I  cer- 
tainly do  remember  you." 

There  was  no  answer  available  to  her.  Eventually, 
she  had  to  fall  back  on  business. 

"  And  you  —  you  honestly  do  want  to  come  and  have 
a  room  in  our  house?  " 

"  More  than  I  want  anything  else  I  can  think  of, 
Miss  McCain.  My  own  room,  too,  if  I  can  have  it. 
It's  to  your  left  at  the  top  of  the  stairs." 

Hero-worship  shone  in  her  eyes ;  and  there  was  also 
a  spark  of  some  other  emotion.  "  There's  no  one  in  it 
now  —  of  course  you  can  have  it.  And  that  makes 
six,"  she  said. 

"  Six  —  guests  ?  " 

**  Yes.  You  and  Mr.  Jones  and  Mr.  Adams  and  Mr. 
Pennypacker  and  Mr.  Wilson  and  Mr.  Ganzenberry. 
He's  an  artist.     Oh,  he  paints  beautifully !  " 

"  But  six  isn't  a  houseful,"  said  Egan.  "  Not  unless 
the  house  has  shrunk." 

"  Oh,  no."  She  gazed  for  a  moment  at  the  ground. 
**  We  counted  on  sixteen.  We've  only  had  the  house 
four  weeks,  though.  But  if  more  people  don't  come 
pretty  soon.  .  .  ." 

"  Hm,"  said  Egan.  "  How  much  are  you  charg- 
ing?  " 


104  EGAN 

"  Fifteen  dollars."     She  said  it  breathlessly. 

"  Regardless  of  what  room  it  is?  " 

"  Why,  yes." 

"  Suppose  two  men  room  together.''  "         > 

"  Why,  we  thought  fifteen  dollars  would  be  fair  for 
everybody." 

"  You've  not  been  at  this  business  very  long,  have 
you  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  averted.     "  No." 

Egan  was  sorry  for  her.  "  You'll  have  to  work  out 
a  better  system  than  that,"  he  said  kindly.  "  It 
sounds  fair,  but  it  really  isn't.     Not  businesslike." 

"  We  don't  know  aw^thing  about  business,"  she  told 
him  shamefacedly.  **  You  see  ...  we  never  did  any- 
thing like  this  before  .  .  .  but  when  our  lawyer  made 
a  bad  investment  for  us  — "  She  broke  off  there,  and 
stared  at  him  in  an  embarrassment  of  fear  that  she  had 
said  too  much.  It  was  the  stare  which  presently  en- 
lightened Egan. 

"  Oh !  "  he  said.  "  Was  your  lawyer,  by  any  chance, 
Mr.  Macklin?" 

She  nodded,  speechless. 

"  And  he  bought  Egan  Company  stock  for  you  and 
your  mother.?  " 

Again  she  nodded. 

"  Do  you  happen  to  know  what  it's  worth  today  .f*  " 
It  was  his  first  encounter  with  one  of  that  group  which, 
in  reaching  for  the  great  bargain,  had  suffered  entire 
loss,  and  he  was  very  uncomfortable  about  it.  He  won- 
dered how  many  of  the  group  would  feel  that  he  was  in 
some  measure  responsible,  simply  by  virtue  of  being  in 
the  Egan  family. 


EGAN  105 

"  N-nothing,"  she  said,  hushed.  "  So  Mother  and  I 
rented  this  house  from  the  Hospital, —  Mr.  Macklin 
fixed  it  up  for  us.  As  long  as  they  had  to  rent  it  to 
somebod}',  and  it  had  been  your  house,  and  we'd  lost 
all  our  money  in  your  company,  they  made  it  a  low 
rent,  so  — " 

"  How  much  stock  have  you  got  —  if  it's  not  an  im- 
pertinence? " 

"  I  .  .  .  M-mother  never  told  me." 

Egan  drew  a  long  breath.  Macklin  had  told  part 
truth,  at  least. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said,  "  when  I  can  see  your  mother." 

She  came  impulsively  nearer  yet,  and  her  eyes  were 
gorgeously  brilliant.  "  You  .  .  .  you're  not  .  .  .  you're 
not  going  to  buy  it  back  1 "  she  faltered.  "  Oh,  Lieu- 
tenant Egan !  If  you  only  would!  "  She  was  highly 
excited,  and  excitation  gave  her  cheeks  a  charm  not 
wasted  on  Egan.  *'  If  you  only  —  would  do  that !  It 
would  .  .  .  why,  it  would  be  the  bravest  thing  you've 
ever  done.     The  noblest.     The  .  .  .  the  best.'* 

The  comers  of  his  mouth  went  upward.  She  was  a 
silly  little  thing, —  so  intense,  so  dramatic. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  could  do  that,  exactly,  but 
could  I  see  your  mother  before  breakfast?  " 

Impulsively  she  snatched  his  hand.  "  Come!  "  said 
Miss  McCain,  with  abandon. 

After  a  somewhat  staccato  interview  on  other  mat- 
ters, Mrs.  McCain,  a  timid  Jady  with  recessive  manners, 
had  looked  hurriedly  into  Egan's  face,  then  fixedly  at 
Egan's  feet,  and  told  him  that  the  room  was  his. 
Thereafter,    she   had   made   several    false    starts,    and 


106  EGAN 

finally  said,  as  though  uncertain  of  her  own  adminis- 
tration :     "  You'd  better  come  in  to  breakfast,  now." 

Her  daughter  was  more  eflScient.  "  Why,  mother ! 
Nobody's  rung  the  gong  yet." 

Mrs.  McCain  grew  pink  (in  the  presence  of  Egan) 
and  prim  (in  reproof  of  her  offspring).  "  Thank  you, 
Milly.  I  was  just  about  to."  She  retraced  her  steps 
to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  with  absorbed  precision, 
performed  for  a  moment  upon  the  chimes.  "  Now  we 
can  go  in,"  she  said  imperially,  but  she  wasn't  sure 
even  then  whether  she  ought  to  precede  Egan  or  let 
him  precede  her. 

She  took  her  stand  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  as- 
sumed a  misplaced  air  of  authority.  "  Will  you  sit 
there.  Lieutenant  Egan  ?  " 

«  Mother !     That's  Mr.  Adams'  place !  " 

Mrs.  McCain  smoothed  out  the  salient  of  her  mouth. 
"  He  won't  be  down.  Georgina's  taking  up  a  tray. 
,  .  .  Oh,  good  morning,  Mr.  Pennypacker.  Permit  me 
to  make  you  acquainted  with  Lieutenant  Egan." 

Mr.  Pennypacker,  a  short,  impersonal,  middle-aged 
statistician,  emitted  a  burst  of  utterly  unaccented  laugh- 
ter. This,  as  it  soon  appeared,  was  merely  a  sort  of 
vocal  punctuation ;  it  meant  nothing  overt.  "  Pleased 
to  meet  you." 

"Shall  we  all  sit  down?" 

Mr.  Pennypacker  transfixed  Egan  with  his  bright 
little  eyes. 

"  Are  you  out  of  the  service  yet,  sir?  " 

"  I  was  discharged  Monday,  at  Mineola,  Mr.  Penny- 
packer." 

"  Then  you'll  have  to  excuse  me  if  I  don't  call  you 


EGAN  107 

*  Lieutenant,'  Mr.  Egan.  No  offence,  sir.  I  always 
like  to  be  accurate." 

"  Oh,  thej  often  call  people  titles  afterwards ! "  in- 
terposed Millicent.  "  General  Grant,  Colonel  Roose- 
velt — " 

"  What  would  you  like  for  eggs,  Lieutenant  Egan .'' 
Fried,  or  boiled.?  " 

"  Fried,  please." 

Mr.  Pennypacker  was  unabashed.  "  I  see  you  have 
the  Croix  de  Guerre,  Mr.  Egan.  Did  you  know  that 
only  four  hundred  and  seventy-nine  American  officers 
are  entitled  to  wear  that  decoration.?  " 

"No;  I—" 

"  Mr.  Wilson,  permit  me  to  make  you  acquainted 
with  Lieutenant  Egan." 

"  Ouch !  Howdy-do,  Lieutenant."  Mr.  Wilson 
came  all  the  way  around  the  table  to  give  Egan  a 
putty-like  grip. 

"  Sleep  well,  Wilson .?  "  Mr.  Pennypacker  winked  at 
Egan. 

**  No,  I  can't  say  I  did.  I  judge  I  slept  about  three 
hours.  Tried  it  on  my  right  side  'til  I  heard  the  clock 
strike  twelve,  and  then  I  tried  it  on  my  left  side  'til  1 
heard  it  strike  one,  and  then  I  got  up  and  read  a  little 
Greek  until  half  past  two." 

"  He  reads  Greek,"  said  Mr.  Pennypacker  to  Egan, 
very  humorously.     "  Perhaps  you  do,  too." 

"  Oh,  I  might  remember  a  few  words,"  laughed  Egan. 

Mr.  Wilson  glared  at  Mr.  Penn3rpacker.  "  You 
don't  need  to  make  me  out  a  fool.  I  said  a  little 
Greek." 

"  I  bet  it  was.     How  about  some  coffee,  Milly." 


108  EGAN 

"  Mr.  Jones,  permit  me  to  — " 

"  Oh,  we  know  each  other !  How's  the  boy,  Bron- 
son  ?     Sort  of  hot,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Ganzenberry,  permit  me  to  make  you  ac- 
quainted with  Lieutenant  Egan." 

"  Good  morning,  everybody.  .  .  .  Glad  to  see  you, 
sir.  Any  relation  of  Charles  C.  Egan  of  Philadel- 
phia ? "  The  artist  shook  hands  warmly.  "  I  knew 
Charles  C.  Egan  very  well  indeed.  A  brother  artist. 
No  relation  at  all?  I'm  sorry.  .  .  .  Sleep  well.  Wile 
son.?" 

"  Of  course  he  didn't,"  said  Mr.  Penn3rpacker,  with 
another  burst  of  laughter.  "  What's  the  use  of  ask- 
ing that  every  morning?  "  He  turned  to  address  Little 
Johnny  Jones.  **  It  may  seem  hot  to  you,  but  I've  kept 
a  diary  for  twenty-nine  years,  and  my  own  personal  im- 
pression is  that  this  is  as  cool  a  July,  on  the  average,  as 
we've  ever  had.     I'll  look  that  up  and  — " 

"  Please  don't  bother,"  said  Johnny,  hastily.  "  I'll 
take  your  word  for  it." 

**  Oh,  it  won't  be  any  trouble  at  all.  I'm  interested, 
now  you've  brought  up  the  subject.  If  you'U  just  wait 
half  a  second — " 

*'  Sit  down,  Pennypacker,"  advised  the  artist. 
"  When  are  you  going  to  learn  not  to  spring  the  book 
on  people?     We'll  all  take  your  word  for  it." 

*'  Georgina,  pass  Lieutenant  Egan  the  toast.  .  .  . 
Oh,  don't  take  that  burned  piece !  Georgina,  get  Lieu- 
tenant Egan  some  fresh  toast." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Mr.  Wilson,  explosively.  "  Are  you 
James  Egan's  son?  " 

"  Yes." 


EGAN  109 

There  was  a  rather  noticeable  pause. 

"  What  do  you  think's  going  to  happen  in  Russia, 
Mr.  Pennypacker?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you,  Wilson  — "  And  Mr.  Pennypacker 
was  as  good  as  his  word. 

Egan,  who  was  placed  between  Mrs.  McCain  and  her 
daughter,  wished  that  he  were  sitting  next  to  Jones. 
He  hadn't  liked  that  sudden  quiet  when  his  identity 
was  announced.  So  far,  he  was  of  course  ignorant  of 
public  sentiment  regarding  the  Egan  failure.  He 
didn't  know  whether  he  was  personally  pitied,  or  per- 
sonally blamed  —  or  what  was  generally  thought  about 
his  father.  He  wondered  if  Johnny's  forecast  of  last 
night  was  to  be  applied  to  all  Plainfield. 

"  Marmalade,  Lieutenant?  " 

"  There's  always  some  kind  of  a  war  or  another," 
Pennypacker  was  saying.  "  International,  civil,  race, 
wage,  class  —  I  don't  care  what  you  call  it ;  there's 
always  something.  And  during  every  war,  there's  bol- 
shevism.     Now  to  go  on  to  the  next  point — " 

Mr.  Wilson  addressed  Egan  across  the  table. 
"  Hear  what  he's  saying?  He  says  the  war  isn't  over 
yet." 

"  More  butter.  Lieutenant  Egan  ?  " 

"  I  said,"  affirmed  Mr.  Pennypacker,  " —  if  you'll  do 
me  the  honour  to  quote  me  correctly  —  I  said  that  the 
war  isn't  over ;  a  war  is  over.     Mr.  Egan  hasn't  come 

back  from  the  war ;  he's  come  back  from  wai or  from 

a  war.  Now  he's  ready  to  engage  in  some  other  kind 
of  war.  I  use  the  word  in  its  broad  sense,  Wilson. 
I'm  not  a  quibbler.  Mr.  Egan,  or  any  of  the  rest  of 
us,  can't  get  out  of  it.     War  doesn't  necessarily  mean 


110  EGAN 

simply  artillery,  and  horses  and  guns  and  .  .  .  and  so 
forth.  It  can  mean  commercial  struggle.  It  can  mean 
society.     It  can  mean  'most  anything." 

"  So  can  you,  Pennypacker.  .  .  .  Cream,  Georgina.'* 

"  I'm  sure,"  said  Mrs.  McCain,  "  we're  all  of  us  con- 
stantly striving,  if  that's  what  you  mean." 

"  For  instance,  the  temporary  check  in  Mr.  Egan's 
career  —  something  we  all  look  upon,  sir,  as  a  great 
shame  and  a  great  misfortune  —  why,  isn't  that  com- 
parable as  a  mere  incident  in  his  li^e  to,  say,  McCleUan's 
failure  before  Richmond.'^  If  you  stretch  your  imagi- 
nation — " 

"  Not  as  far  as  from  here  to  Richmond,"  observed 
Mr.  Ganzenberry,  dryly. 

"  No,  but  seriously.  What  is  life  but  a  continuous 
campaign?  War  against  inertia.  War  against  pov- 
erty. War  against  sickness.  War  against  competi- 
tors. War  against  your  own  nature.  Do  I  make  my- 
self clear.?  " 

He  had;  and  he  had  also  succeeded  in  placing  a  sti- 
letto in  the  secret  sensibilities  of  every  one  present,  so 
that  there  was  no  immediate  rejoinder. 

To  Egan,  however,  his  grandiloquence  sounded 
prophetic.  Life  was  nothing  but  a  continuous  cam- 
paign.    Not  the  war ;  but  a  war. 

"  If  you  don't  see  what  you  want.  Lieutenant  Egan, 
I  do  hope  you'll  make  yourself  perfectly  at  home,  and 
ask  for  it." 

But  it  wasn't  until  after  breakfast  that  the  insta- 
bility of  Egan's  position  began  to  affect  him.  Stanley 
Adams,  pale  but  resolute,  had  dropped  in  for  a  mo- 


EGAN  111 

ment,  and  departed  for  the  office  of  the  Times;  Little 
Johnny  Jones  had  made  haste  to  report  at  his  insur- 
ance agency ;  the  other  boarders  had  their  appointed 
tasks,  and  went  to  face  them;  Egan  was  adrift. 

As  a  preHminary  to  action,  he  smoked  a  long  cigar 
in  Jones'  room.  There  was  no  use  in  glooming  over 
his  situation ;  it  was  too  present  a  reality.  Besides, 
every  one  would  expect  him  to  be  dazed  by  it,  and  that 
was  exactly  the  reason  why  he  refused  to  be.  Obvi- 
ously, if  he  didn't  care  to  become  anybody's  employe, 
he  must  originate  some  means  of  living  independently. 
He  told  himself  that  he  wasn't  snobbish;  he  merely 
didn't  like  the  idea  of  going  to  work  on  the  same  basis 
as  those  who  hadn't  had  all  Egan's  advantages.  Of 
course,  if  anybody  would  pay  him  what  he  was  really 
worth,  that  might  be  safer  than  launching  out  alone. 
Without  prejudice,  he  catalogued  his  various  abilities, 
setting  them  down  mentally  as  though  he  were  framing 
an  advertisement  for  the  "  Situations  Wanted  "  col- 
umn of  Adams'  newspaper. 

"  Young  man,  recently  discharged  from  the  Army, 
desires  employment  in  any  clean  and  rather  exclusive 
business  which  promises  to  make  a  great  success,  which 
it  will  generously  share  with  him.  Age  25,  college  grad- 
uate, best  of  health.  No  experience  in  anything  ex- 
cept spending  money  to  get  the  least  return  from  it, 
and  in  piloting  various  types  of  airplanes.  Salary  de- 
sired to  start — " 

Egan  totalled  his  requirements.  Room  and  board, 
ffiteen  dollars.  Incidentals,  fifteen  dollars.  Every- 
thing else,  forty  dollars.  That  was  his  idea  of  the  ir- 
reducible minimum.     Seventy  dollars  a  week.     His  own 


112  EGAN 

modesty  rather  appealed  to  him.  Why,  his  Army  pay, 
counting  in  the  extra-duty  allowance  for  flying,  had 
amounted  almost  to  that  much.  But,  on  the  subject 
of  airplanes  — 

Egan  reached  for  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  began  to  set 
down  rapid  figures.  His  eyes  grew  brilliant,  and  his 
cigar  went  out,  unheeded.     He  was  himself,  again. 

At  ten  o'clock,  he  put  on  his  cap,  and  went  down  to 
see  the  Honourable  George  Perkins. 

"  Well,  sir !  "  said  the  Judge.  "  How've  you  capital- 
ized your  time  since  I  last  saw  you.''  " 

"  I've  found  out  something  about  the  Egan  Com- 
pany, anyway ;  and  I've  got  a  scheme." 

"  So  soon.?  Who  from.?  Not  about  the  scheme  just 
yet  —  the  Company." 

"  From  a  Mrs.  McCain.  She's  a  widow.  She  was 
one  of  the  people  who  let  Eddie  Macklin  buy  Egan 
stock.  Uncle  George.  Her  husband  left  her  fifty  thou- 
sand. Eddie  was  her  lawyer,  and  managed  her  finances. 
He  bought  fifty  for  her.  She's  the  one  who's  rented 
our  old  house  on  Vine  Street  from  the  City  Hospital, 
and  she's  taking  boarders.     I'm  going  to  live  there." 

"  Oh,  you  are,  are  you.?  " 

"  Yes.  .  .  .  That's  all  I  could  get  out  of  her.  She 
seems  to  have  the  idea  in  her  head  that  she  mustn't  talk 
about  it.  Pride,  I  guess.  She's  very  .  .  .  genteel. 
Only  it's  some  rehef  to  know  Eddie  doesn't  lie  all  the 
time." 

"  It  is.  Well,  I  told  you  I  didn't  think  that  he  lied 
this  time.  .  .  .  What's  your  scheme.?  " 

Egan's  chest  expanded.  "  First,  I  want  you  to  give 
me  desk-room  here  —  free,  gratis,  for  nothing." 


EGAN  113, 

"  It's  yours  —  telephone  and  all.     What's  next  ?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  come  and  take  a  room  at  1630  Vine. 
Your  old  room's  empty,  Uncle  George.  I'm  back  in 
mine,  and  it  feels  great.  It'll  please  me  a  lot  to  have 
you  there.     Uncle  Stanley's  there,  too.     Will  you?  '* 

The  Judge's  fist  bumped  on  the  desk. 

"  By  gum,  I  will !  It's  the  only  mantelpiece  I  ever 
saw  was  just  the  right  height,  without  scorching  my 
shins  in  the  winter  time." 

"  That's  bully.  Now,  where  are  the  personal  things 
Dad  left  me.'*  And  all  my  old  clothes  and  everything? 
I  want  to  get  out  of  this  uniform  as  soon  as  I  can." 

"  In  storage,  Bronson.  I'll  order  'em  sent  up  to 
the  house  this  morning,  so  they'll  be  there  tonight. 
Now  sit  down  there  and  tell  me  what  your  scheme's  all 
about." 

"  Well  —  there's  no  sense  in  figuring  on  anything 
coming  to  me  out  of  the  Company,  is  there?  " 

"  Not  that  I  can  see.  In  the  long  run,  there  may  be 
something  left  over,  but  it's  not  worth  banking  on." 

"  And  there  isn't  any  job  there  for  me?  " 

"  No.     There  isn't." 

"  That's  how  I  doped  it  out,  myself.  So  I've  either 
got  to  go  get  a  job  with  somebody  else,  or  start  some- 
thing of  my  own,  haven't  I  ?  " 

"  No  disputing  that,  Bronson.*' 

"  All  right ;  I've  got  a  scheme.  All  I  need  is  five 
thousand  dollars  to  put  me  on  my  feet." 

The  Judge  whistled. 

"  Five  thousand  dollars  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  don't  you  try  to  loan  it  to  me,  either, 
I'll  take  desk  room  from  you,  and  that's  all  I  will  take. 


114  EGAN 

I'm  going  to  earn  it  by  the  middle  of  August.  Then 
I'm  out  for  bear." 

"How'llyouearnit.?" 

Egan  was  very  optimistic.  "  One  of  the  best  friends 
I've  got  —  we  used  to  be  clubmates  at  college  —  is  vice- 
president  of  an  airplane  factory  up  in  New  York  State. 
I'm  going  to  get  him  to  sell  me  a  J  N  4<  H  —  that's  an 
advanced  training  plane  —  on  time." 

"Well?" 

"  And  then,"  said  Bronson  cheerfully,  "  I'm  going  to 
get  a  concession  at  the  County  Fair  —  and  if  the  cal- 
endar hasn't  shifted  in  the  meantime,  that's  the  middle 
of  September  —  and  I'm  going  to  take  up  passengers 
at  a  dollar  a  minute.  Plainfield  hasn't  seen  much  of 
any  flying,  and  practically  nobody  here  ever  had  a 
ride,  and  it  ought  to  go  big.     Like  the  idea?  " 

The  Judge  scowled.  "  Not  very  dignified,  Bron- 
son." 

"  Neither  is  being  broke." 

"  They'll  say  you're  deliberately  going  out  of  your 
way  just  to  be  theatrical  — " 

"  No,  only  spectacular.  And  I  want  the  money,  and 
I  want  the  publicity." 

**  You  won't  have  much  caste  left,  will  you?  " 

"  I'm  hot  worried  about  that.  Uncle  George." 

"  Well,  suppose  you  make  as  much  money  as  you 
think  you  will,  then  what'll  you  do?  " 

"  Aerial  transportation,"  said  Egan  boldly. 
**  There's  no  use  in  denying  it  —  it's  the  coming  busi- 
ness. I've  figured  it  all  out.  It  isn't  guesswork;  I 
know  what  I'm  talking  about.  We  can  get  any  number 
of  good  pilots  —  there  were  seventeen  thousand  of  'em 


EGAN  116 

when  the  war  ended.  We  can  buy  ships  anywhere  — 
the  country's  full  of  them.  People  laugh  —  but  did 
you  ever  read  Booth  Tarkington's  book  called  '  The 
Magnificent  Ambersons  '  ?  People  laughed  at  the  auto- 
mobile the  same  way.  I  want  to  start  an  aerial  ex- 
press between  here  and  Dayton.  Start  with  the  H  — 
it'll  carry  a  couple  of  hundred  pounds  after  it's  fixed 
over  a  little  —  and  then  add  more,  and  then  branch 
out.  Then  to  Cleveland,  and  Cincinnati,  and  Chicago. 
They're  doing  it  in  England  already.  The  mail  serv- 
ice works  pretty  well,  doesn't  it-f*  Well,  why  shouldn't 
we  go  ahead  and  be  pioneers  in  the  express  business  ?  " 

The  Judge  emphasized  his  remarks  with  his  corncob. 
"  It's  impractical,  boy !  And  even  if  it  wasn't,  you're 
not  old  enough.  You  haven't  had  any  business  training 
at  all !  You're  making  the  same  mistake  you  always 
did  —  thinking  you  can  do  anything  anybody  else 
could !  " 

"  Well,  that  makes  one  more  reason  why  I  won't  let 
you  loan  me  any  money,  then.  Uncle  George,  if  you 
think  that  way.  I'll  only  risk  my  own  —  if  I  make 
any." 

"  But  you  can't  get  franchises  on  a  thing  like  that  I 
You  can't  buy  a  right-of-way.  Anybody  with  more 
money  or  more  brains  could  come  along  and  put  you  out 
of  business  in  half  a  second." 

"  I  guess  I  can  look  out  for  that.  .  .  .  Don't  forget, 
Uncle  George,  the  world  isn't  going  to  sleep  .  .  .  the 
Government's  planning  to  use  the  Air  Service  in  for- 
estry work,  and  coast  and  geodetic  surveying,  and  — " 

"  But  I  hate  to  have  you  risk  so  much  on  so  little 
prospect,  Bronson." 


116  EGAN 

/ 

"  Would  you  rather  have  me  go  to  work  in  a  shoe- 
store  on  ten  dollars  a  week." 

"  No,  but  ...  I  don't  like  this  County  Fair  scheme. 
You  might  get  hurt.  And  I  don't  suppose  you  can  get 
insurance.  .  .  .  Pshaw ! "  The  Judge  laughed  guilt- 
ily. "  I  forgot  you  haven't  anybody  to  be  a  benefi- 
ciary.   Somehow  I  usually  think  of  you  as  married.  .  .  ." 

"  Just  a  minute ! "  said  Egan  sharply.  His  fore- 
head was  deeply  lined  with  wrinkles.  Presently  he  drew 
a  long  breath,  and  sat  up.  "  Uncle  George,  you're 
right  —  even  Lloyd's  didn't  care  to  insure  fliers.  But 
the  records  show  that  at  the  American  flying  fields  — 
it  wouldn't  be  fair  to  drag  in  the  records  abroad  — 
there  was  only  one  fatality  for  every  hundred  and 
ninety-four  thousand  hours'  flymg,  and  three  quarters 
of  'em  were  caused  by  stunting  at  low  altitudes.  Now 
.  .  .  what  would  you  say  to  a  company  to  write  aerial 
insurance  only;  injuries  to  fliers  and  passengers ;  dam- 
ages to  express ;  damages  to  farms  or  buildings  or  in- 
dividuals from  crashes.  .  .  ."  He  paused,  dazzled  by 
his  own  thoughts.  "  It  hasn't  been  done  —  not  that 
I  know  of  —  and  there's  money  in  it.  Not  millions,  of 
course,  but  .  .  .  think  of  what  you  could  collect  by 
writing  insurance  per  passenger  per  trip?  There'll  be 
a  hundred  thousand  people  in  the  air  this  next  year. 
Curiosity  seekers.  Everybody's  crazy  to  go  up. 
Would  a  man  pay  ten  dollars,  say,  for  a  five  thousand 
dollar  policy  on  a  ten  minute  flip.''  I  rather  guess  he 
would !  " 

The  Judge  sat  hypnotized. 

"  You're  so  visionary,  Bronson !  Get  down  to  earth 
—  get  down  to  common  sense." 


EGAN  IIT 

**  And  Professor  Langley  was  hooted  into  his  grave 
—  and  ten  years  later  they  took  his  old  original  machine 
up  to  Keuka  Lake  and  flew  it." 

"  You  can't  count  on  those  infernal  things  to  — " 

**  They  won  the  war,  didn't  they  ?  And  they've  made 
transatlantic  trips,  haven't  they?  And  they're  car- 
rying mail  for  the  Post  Office  Department,  aren't 
they?" 

The  Judge  filled  his  pipe  unsteadily. 

"Are  you  serious  about  all  this,  Bronson?" 

"  Absolutely." 

"  Suppose  it  fails?  " 

"  How  can  it  ?  "  inquired  Egan,  with  dignity. 

"  You  can't  run  both  enterprises  at  one  time." 

"  I  wouldn't  have  to.  I've  got  a  man  in  mind  for 
the  insurance  end." 

"Who's  that?" 

"  Little  Johnny  Jones.     Best  man  in  town." 

The  Judge  was  cumulatively  depressed. 

*'  I  know  him.  He's  a  nice  young  fellow,  and  they 
say  he's  a  hard  worker, —  but,  Bronson,  you  can't  ex- 
pect to  go  out  with  a  couple  of  playmates,  and  com- 
pete with  insurance  companies  and  express  companies ! 
You'd  better  think  this  over  some  more.  You're  jump- 
ing too  fast.  Of  course,  I  know  you're  all  stirred  up, 
and  no  wonder,  but  you  don't  have  to  go  off  on  a  wild 
tangent  like  this,  just  to  make  a  start.  Take  a  couple 
days  off  to  get  acclimated,  and  then  we'll  sit  down  and 
go  over  things,  logically." 

Egan  held  his  tongue,  but  it  took  will-power. 

"  Well  —  when  can  I  have  my  desk-room?  " 

"  You  can  pick  it  out  now." 


118  EGAN 

"  Thank  you,  Uncle  George.  I'll  look  around  a  bit, 
and  let  you  know." 

"  Here !  You're  too  quick  on  the  trigger !  Where 
you  going.?  " 

"  Why,"  said  Egan,  surprisedly,  "  I'm  going  to  find 
a  good  place  for  my  desk,  and  then  I'm  going  over  to 
talk  to  Uncle  Stanley  about  what  sort  of  publicity  we'd 
need  when  —  I  mean  if  —  we  start  this  thing." 

The  Judge  bit  his  lip.  "  Just  to  please  me,  Bron- 
son  — " 

"  But  it  won't  do  any  harm  to  talk  it  over  with  him, 
will  it.?" 

The  Judge  swallowed.  He  looked  at  Egan,  and 
looked  away,  uneasily. 

"  No,"  he  said  in  an  undertone.  "  That  is,  I  hope 
it  won't.     But,  Bronson  — " 

"Yes?" 

The  Judge  motioned  feebly. 

"Nothing.  ...  Go  on." 


IX 

SHE  was  dressed  quietly  enough,  but  with  a  cer- 
tain style  which  made  most  other  women  feel 
like  part  of  the  background;  and  as  she  came, 
out  from  the  swinging  doors  of  Plainfield's  leading  de- 
partment store  she  radiated  an  alert  independence  which 
again  distinguished  her  from  the  herd  of  chronic  con- 
servatives marching  before  and  behind  her.  She  was 
a  size  or  two  smaller  than  the  current  standard  of 
debutantes,  or  even  the  current  standard  of  post- 
debutantes,  but  she  had  a  magnificent  figure,  and  car- 
ried herself  like  a  member  of  the  King's  Own  Rifles. 
She  walked  with  a  healthy  swing  —  not  a  swagger,  but 
a  swing  —  designed  to  take  her  from  one  place  to  an- 
other by  the  shortest  measured  distance,  and  at  the 
least  drain  on  the  clock.  Finally,  she  was  good-look- 
ing in  the  most  inclusive  sense ;  not  superficially  attrac- 
tive, but  with  that  particular  sort  of  intrinsic  sweet- 
ness which  belongs  only  to  a  lovable  disposition,  and' 
can't  be  imitated. 

Under  the  circumstances,  it  was  inevitable  that  Bron- 
son  Egan  should  catch  his  breath.  "  Miss  Hender- 
son ! "  he  said,  with  almost  an  apology  in  his  saluta- 
tion. With  the  memory  of  last  night,  and  of  her  par- 
entage, vivid  in  his  mind,  he  couldn't  decide  whether 
he  was  glad  or  sorry  to  meet  her. 

She    stopped,    and    met    him    with    frank   pleasure. 

"  Lieutenant  Egan  !  " 

"  I've  been  thinking  about  you,"  he  said  soberly. 

119 


120  EGAN 

"  So  have  I.  .  .  .  Are  you  walking  my  way  ?  " 

£gan,  with  her  smile  warming  him,  knew  that  he  was 
glad. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  promptly ;  and  she  laughed  outright. 

**  But  you  don't  even  know  yet  which  way  it  is ! " 

"  It  makes  no  difference,"  said  Egan.  "  It's  mine, 
too." 

He  was  glad  to  see  her,  and  he  felt  that  he  owed  her 
a  great  deal,  but  the  fact  that  she  was  Martin  Hen- 
derson's daughter  wouldn't  down.  They  traversed  half 
a  block  in  silence. 

"  That  was  a  very  courageous  thing  for  you  to  do 
last  night,"  she  said  abruptly. 

"  To  take  poor  old  Uncle  Stanley  Adams  home  ? 
Why  was  it.?" 

"  It  .  .  .  created  a  wrong  impression.  It  was  bound 
to,  and  you  knew  it.  He's  not  accepted  here,  and  you're 
not  afraid  to  be  kind  to  him.  Mary  said  she'd  already 
warned  you  that  people  would  criticize  you  for  being 
friendly  to  him.     I  call  it  mighty  brave." 

"  I'm  not  positive  about  that,"  said  Egan  awkwardly. 
**  When  men  drink  too  much,  their  friends  have  to  look 
out  for  them.  I'm  his  friend  whether  he's  sober  or  not. 
He  needs  me  more  when  he's  not.     That's  all." 

"  The  difficulty  comes  in  the  friendship.  Lieutenant." 

Egan  was  alert.  **  Some  people  always  exaggerate 
those  things.  I  can  be  his  friend  without  following  the 
same  line  of  conduct,  can't  I  ?  " 

"  I'm  almost  sorry  for  the  friendship  itself  —  be- 
cause he's  anything  but  a  friend  of  my  father's.  .  .  . 
He's  written  some  terrible  things  about  him  in  the 
Times." 


EGAN  121 

Egan  made  no  answer.  The  sunlight  threatened  to 
fade  out  of  his  world. 

"  It  was  courageous,  just  the  same,"  she  said.  "  And 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  if  I  hadn't  seen  you  doing  the  same 
thing  yesterday  afternoon,  I  mightn't  have  said  aU  I 
did  to  you  last  night." 

Egan  wasn't  unpleased.  "  Would  you  mind  if  I 
asked  you  a  personal  question,  Miss  Henderson.'*  What 
were  you  doing  all  through  the  war.-*  " 

She  glanced  at  him  in  some  perplexity. 

"  I  don't  exactly  see  the  connection  — " 

"  There  is  one,  though." 

"  Why,"  she  said,  *'  I  was  a  sort  of  teamster  for 
the  first  part  of  it,  and  then  I  was  a  chauffeur." 

"  I  beg  3'our  pardon  —  a  teamster,  did  you  say?  " 

"  Teamster,"  she  repeated.  "  Life  was  nothing  but 
one  drive  after  another,  and  I  was  one  of  the  drivers. 
Red  Cross,  Liberty  Loan,  War  Camp,  War  Savings, 
Y.  M.  C.  A.,  and' then  the  United  War  Work  — the 
only  thing  I  wasn't  in  was  a  drive  to  raise  money  to 
relieve  the  people  who'd  bankrupted  themselves  in  all  the 
other  drives.  And  then  I  went  into  that  Woman's 
Motor  Corps,  you  know,  and  drove  an  ambulance.  I 
suppose  you  could  even  call  me  '  Sergeant '  if  you 
wanted  to."  She  laughed  merrily.  "  It  wasn't  like 
being  overseas,  of  course,  but  sometimes  it  was  pretty 
lively,  especially  during  the  flu  epidemic,  and  twice 
when  we  had  big  explosions.  I  had  a  wonderful  old 
'bus ;  Hawkins  —  she  was  our  Major,  and  an  awfully 
good  sport,  too,  even  if  she  was  an  old  maid  —  Hawkins 
said  I  had  everything  in  it  but  lace  curtains  and  a  fire- 
less  cooker." 


122  EGAN 

Egan  managed  to  laugh  also ;  the  sunlight  was  grow- 
ing brighter.  He  hadn't  actually  believed  that  she  was 
as  unpatriotic  as  her  father;  but  now  that  he  had  her 
own  statement,  he  was  relieved. 

"  I  suspect  you've  kept  yourself  busy,  anyway." 

"  Once  I  was  on  duty  for  twenty-seven  hours 
straight,"  she  said.  "  It  was  a  fire."  She  looked  at 
him  sidewise.  "  The  idea  of  my  running  on  like  that, 
when  you've  done  something  real ! " 

"  I  haven't  done  so  much  —  no  more  for  me,  prob- 
ably, than  you  have  for  you." 

She  observed  that  this  was  intended  primarily  as  a 
compliment,  and  not  as  insincerity. 

"  Nonsense !  Why,  you've  flown  an  airplane,  haven't 
you.?  Most  of  the  men  around  here  haven't  gumption 
enough  to  fly  a  toy  balloon." 

"  Looking  back  on  it,  it  makes  me  feel  like  a  high- 
class  taxi-driver.'* 

"  Oh,  don't  be  silly !  "  said  Miss  Henderson  sturdily. 
"  I  know  what's  the  matter  with  you  —  you're  all  tired 
out  nervously,  that's  all.  And  I  know  why,  too.  The 
let-down's  too  much  for  you.  You're  tuned  up  to  high 
C,  and  the  rest  of  the  world's  in  low  B  flat.  I  felt  the 
same  way  when  we  demobilized.  All  I  could  seem  to 
want  to  do  was  to  find  somebody  sort  of  harmless,  and 
cooing  and  squshy,  and  sit  back  and  rest  my  mind  and 
let  him  sort  of  prattle  at  me  for  awhile.  I  know  just 
how  you  feel." 

Egan  was  convulsed.  "  So  you  think  I  need  that  sort 
of  treatment,  do  you?  " 

"  You  probably  do,"  she  said.  "  Just  a  good  old- 
fashioned  sociable  session  with  some  nice  little  harm- 


EGAN  lj83 

less  vampire,  or  else  just  the  opposite  —  lots  of  action. 
Tennis  and  swimming  and  everything.  They're  the 
only  two  ways  I  know  to  get  over  the  blues.  I  meant 
to  tell  you  that  last  night.     It's  a  prescription." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Egan.     "  I'm  astonished  at  you." 

"Are  you.?     Why.?" 

"  It  doesn't  seem  like  you  to  suggest  that." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  in  every  other  way  you've  been  so  prac- 
tical." 

Her  smile  was  this  time  more  comprehensive. 

**  You  do  need  a  teacher.  Don't  you  know  that  you 
must  never,  never,  Tiever  tell  a  girl  she's  practical, 
whether  you  think  so  or  not.?  It  simply  isn't  done. 
But  between  ourselves,  don't  you  think  that's  prac- 
tical.?    I  do." 

"  It's  impossible,"  said  Egan  shortly. 

"  It  seems  to  me  I've  heard  you  used  to  be  rather 
a  success  at  it." 

"  That  was  before  the  war." 

"  The  war  didn't  change  you  so  much,  did  it .?  " 

"  It  turned  me  inside  out,"  said  Egan,  "  and  there 
isn't  any  girl-sense  or  any  game-sense  left  in  me." 

She  came  to  a  tardy  standstill.  "  I'm  leaving  you 
here.  Lieutenant;  I  do  hope  you'll  remember  to  come 
to  see  me.  My  father  came  to  town  yesterday,  and 
I'll  probably  go  home  with  him  the  end  of  the  week. 
.  .  .  But  it  isn't  impractical.  I  know  it  isn't.  Won't 
you  just  give  up  your  ideas  of  logic  for  once,  and  be- 
lieve me  without  trying.?  " 

"  You  think  it's  sound  reasoning?  " 

"  No,"  she  said  with  a  cheery  smile,  "  but  it  gener- 


124  EGAN 

ally  works.  And  jou  come  to  see  me  sometime,  and 
I'll  cheer  you  up  so  you  could  flirt  with  a  broom-handle. 
All  it  needs  is  a  heart  and  a  sense  of  humour.  Good- 
bye, Lieutenant." 

For  a  moment  or  two,  Egan  loitered  at  the  comer, 
contemplative.  At  length  he  came  to  himself,  and  with 
a  little  start  of  perception  realized  that  he  had  halted 
squarely  before  the  Times  building.  The  occasion  was 
propitious;  so  that  he  went  up  into  the  business  office, 
and  inquired  the  whereabouts  of  Mr.  Stanley  Adams. 

"  Third  floor  rear,"  said  the  cashier  smartly.  "  Take 
elevator  left." 

Obediently,  Egan  took  elevator  left,  and  emerged 
from  it  into  the  apotheosis  of  disorder.  The  limited 
floor  space  was  crammed  with  ancient  typewriters  on 
rickety  tables,  with  heaps  of  sooty  newspapers,  soap- 
boxes filled  with  cuts,  heaps  of  electros  with  dried  ink 
encrusting  them,  files  and  files  innumerable.  Life  was 
at  extremes  here ;  men  either  dawdled  or  rushed ;  imper- 
tinent small  boys  sat  playing  "  jeff^  "  with  em-quads  or 
plunged  at  top  speed  down  narrow  alleys  between  the 
desks.  The  atmosphere  was  aquiver  with  suppressed 
energy;  the  Times,  an  early  morning  and  an  early 
afternoon  paper,  was  on  the  verge  of  going  to  press. 
This  was  that  portion  of  the  day  during  which  the 
majority  of  the  staffs  earned  their  salaries. 

Egan,  thrice  directed  and  re-directed,  ended  at  a 
cubicle  some  eight  feet  by  ten,  containing  a  heavily 
nicked-and-scarred  desk,  a  cane-seated  chair,  a  type- 
writer, a  hundred  pounds  of  accumulated  dust,  and  Mr. 
Stanley  Adams,  who  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  a  cigar 


EGAN  125 

slanted  in  liis  mouth  at  the  proper  angle  to  keep  the 
smoke  out  of  his  eyes,  pecking  dreamily  at  the  ma- 
chine. 

"  Hello,  Uncle  Stanley." 

Adams  bounced  erect. 

"  Hello,  boy."  He  seemed  to  have  some  difficulty 
in  meeting  Egan's  eyes.     "  How's  your  good  health?  '* 

"  BuUy.  .  .  .  Am  I  interrupting  you.^*  " 

"  Not  so  you  could  notice  it." 

"  Writing  an  editorial  ?  " 

"  Not  just  now."  He  squinted  unfavourably  at  the 
cigar.  "  Fact  is,  Bronson,  I'm  a  sort  of  general  util- 
ity man.  I'm  an  expert  expert.  I'm  doing  a  review 
of  the  art  show  at  the  Municipal  Art  Museum." 

Egan  had  known  that  the  man  was  versatile,  but  this 
was  news. 

"  I  didn't  know  you're  an  art  critic,  Uncle  Stanley." 

"  Hey .''  Art  critic  !  I'm  an  everything-critic.  On 
a  newspaper  you  don't  learn  to  be  an  expert  —  they  ap- 
point you  one.     I  hear  it's  a  good  exhibition,  too." 

"  Haven't  you  seen  it .''  "  demanded  Egan. 

"Me?  Seen  it?  Gone  'way  over  there  to  rub  el- 
bows with  a  lot  of  whiskers  and  rubber  at  a  lot  of 
pictures?  Catch  a  weasel  asleep!  I  got  a  program. 
How's  this  —  most  of  it's  quoted  from  an  artist  who 
used  to  be  a  friend  of  mine, —  Bob  Chambers  —  but  it's 
hot  stuff.  '  The  portrait  of  Rudolf  Ganzenberry,  by 
himself, — ' " 

"  Hello !     Is  that  the  one  who's  up  at  our  house?  " 

"  The  same  one.  Listen.  *  is  more  than  a  self- 
painting;  it  is  cosmic  autobiography.     One  can  con- 


126  EGAN 

ceivably  be  an  artist  with  one's  own  self  for  canvas  and 
medium  both.  To  this  extent,  Mr.  Ganzenberry  has 
achieved  the  impossible.  To  be  an  artist  is  not  neces- 
sarily egoism,  nor  is  it  always  calculation.  It  may  im- 
ply such  spontaneity  as  a  man  might  display  in  relat- 
ing, without  self-consciousness,  his  own  personal  expe- 
riences to  a  group  of  friends,  and  unwittingly  revealing 
to  them  his  inward  self,  while  he  thought  only  to  regale 
them  with  a  cross-section  of  his  most  outward  and  least 
important  emotions.  So  it  is  with  Mr.  Ganzenberry's 
canvas.'  " 

"  Holy  Smoke ! "  said  Egan. 

"  *  But  to  those  who  feel  that  this  portrait  is  insuffi- 
ciently realistic,  it  should  be  said  that  it  is  the  mistake 
of  the  crowd  to  regard  art  merely  as  the  interpreta- 
tion of  experience.  Such  interpretation  is  the  cross- 
section  of  the  eternal,  and  not  the  standard  of  truth. 
It  is  ontology,  but  it  is  not  life.  Art,  in  its  larger 
sense,  had  nothing  to  do  with  life.  Life  tends  to  claim 
all  for  itself ;  and  therefore  tends  to  kill  art.  In  other 
words,  life  claims  art,  and  art  does  not  claim  life.  For 
if  this  were  not  so,  art  would  be  unexpressed,  and  art  is 
the  revelation  of  the  undetermined,  which  can  only  reach 
its  fulness  in  the  quietude  of  the  soul  —  such  quietude 
as  that  in  which  Mr.  Ganzenberry  evidently  painted 
ihis  picture,  which  — '  " 

**  And  you  never  saw  it !  "  breathed  Egan,  aghast. 

"  *  Which  also  is  framed  suitably  to  the  unusual  sub- 
ject,' "  finished  Adams,  with  a  grotesque  smirk. 
"  There,  by  God !     That's  genius  !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  the  public'll  stand 
•for  that.?  " 


EGAN  127 

**  The  ones  who  ever  read  the  art  column  anyway'll 
lap  it  up,"  said  Adams.  "  Because  they  won't  know 
what  it  means.  Neither  do  I.  Neither  does  Cham- 
bers. But  I've  actually  seen  that  particular  picture; 
Ganzenberry  showed  it  to  me.  It  looks  like  the  Cheshire 
cat  after  it  had  disappeared." 

Laughingly,  Egan  shook  hands.  "  All  right.  Now 
that  you've  got  all  that  poison  out  of  your  system  — 
and  you  ought  to  feel  a  heap  better  —  tell  me  how  many 
columns  I  can  get  free  in  the  Times?  " 

"What  about.?" 

"  Me." 

"  Plain  puiF  —  or  what.?  " 

"  Plain  puff,"  said  Egan.  "  Hundred  per  cent, 
blurb." 

"  Why,  'most  any  amount,  I  guess.  That  is,  if  you 
give  me  time  enough  ahead.  I  can  manufacture  news 
out  of  'most  anything." 

"  Would  it  be  news  if  I  should  take  the  prettiest  girl 
in  Plainfield  up  for  a  twenty  minute  jazz  in  an  airplane 
on  the  opening  day  of  the  County  Fair.?  " 

"  You  bet !  "  said  Adams,  animatedly.  "  You  bet ! 
Anything  in  it  ?  " 

"  Then  you'd  better  put  a  fresh  ribbon  in  your  type- 
writer. Uncle  Stanley.  .  .  .  One  thing  more ;  would  you 
care  to  get  out  of  the  newspaper  business.?  " 

Adams  chewed  his  cigar.  "  There's  only  two  kinds 
of  men  in  the  newspaper  game,  Bronson.  One  kind 
plans  to  get  out  of  it  as  soon  as  it's  saved  enough 
money.  The  other  kind's  resigned  to  it  only  because 
it  knows  it  never  wUl  save  enough  money.  I'm  in 
Class  II." 


128  EGAN 

"  Would  a  hundred  dollars  a  week  tempt  you  ?  '* 

"  Tempt  me !  It'd  paralyse  me !  What  multi-mil- 
lionaire done  that  ?  " 

**  Then  get  ready  to  leave  here  the  fifteenth  of  Sep- 
tember, Uncle  Stanley.  The  Ohio  Aerial  Transport 
Company's  going  to  want  you." 

"  The  what?  " 

Egan  repeated  it,  sonorously. 

"  But  —  as  what.?     What  capacity?     Who's  the  — " 

"  Press  agent  —  advertising  manager." 

Adams  leaned  forward ;  his  forehead  was  wrinkled  and 
his  eyes  narrowed. 

"  Are  you  kidding  me,  Bronson?  " 

"Do  I  look  it?" 

"  No.     But  tell  me  some  more  about  it,  Bronson." 

"  I  can't.  Not  quite  yet.  But  it's  the  real  thing  — 
no  joking.  If  you  want  to  get  out  of  here,  I  can  get 
you  out.  With  good  prospects  —  good  ones.  George 
Perkins  and  myself  are  going  to  start  the  first  aerial 
express  company  in  the  Middle  West.  And  I  want 
some  publicity  to  get  us  started  right." 

The  journalist  stared  at  Egan;  suddenly  jerked  his 
head  forward.  "  Then  I'm  with  you,  Bronson.  If 
you've  made  up  your  mind  to  try  yourself  out  on  your 
own,  and  you  think  you  need  me,  I'll  come.  Whenever 
you  say  so.  Just  let  me  know  eight  days  ahead,  so  I 
can  give  a  week's  notice.     Then  I'm  yours." 

Egan  was  now  on  the  verge  of  his  most  diflBcult  con- 
version. 

"  The  only  thing  about  it.  Uncle  Stanley  —  I  hardly 
know  how  to  get  at  this  — " 

"Oh!"     Adams'     cheeks     went     dull     red.     "Oh! 


EGAN  lag 

Don't  say  a  word,  Bronson.  .  .  ."  He  lighted  a  match 
to  rekindle  the  cigar;  Egan  noted  that  his  hands  were 
very  unsteady.  "  That's  something  I'd  really  rather 
not  discuss  —  just  now  —  if  you  don't  mind.  I'll  tell 
you  sometime.  It'U  be  all  right.  Take  it  for  granted, 
will  you?  " 

"  Very  well."     Egan,  too,  was  relieved.     "  Only  — " 

"  I  know,  boy.     Just  wait  a  little  —  I'll  tell  you. 

It's  all  right.     It's  all  right."     Which,  of  course,  was 

merely  the  common  method  of  expressing  what  both  of 

them  understood  —  that  it  wasn't. 

It  was  dusk  when  Egan  reached  his  boarding-house, 
formerly  his  home,  and  he  was  tired.  In  the  lower  hall- 
way, he  passed  Miss  McCain,  who  venerated  him  with 
her  eyes,  and  plainly  showed  that  a  little  brief  conver- 
sation would  flatter  her;  but  Egan  didn't  pause,  not 
even  to  tell  her  that  he  had  snared  Judge  Perkins  as 
another  client.  He  climbed  the  stairs  wearily,  and 
went  into  his  room,  closed  the  door  and,  as  an  after- 
thought, locked  it.  There  was  no  necessity  of  this ;  no 
likelihood  of  interruption ;  he  merely  desired  to  inten- 
sify his  solitude;  for  the  consciousness  of  his  poverty 
was  suddenly  heavy  upon  him,  and  he  was  very  down- 
cast and  downhearted.  He  tossed  his  cap  idly  on  the 
bed,  and  sat  down. 

The  room  was  obstructed  by  a  dozen  trunks  and 
packing-boxes ;  it  was  more  bam-like  than  ever.  He 
told  himself,  idly,  that  he  should  have  to  waste  a  pre- 
cious lot  of  time  to  overhaul  all  that  luggage,  and  make 
the  place  habitable.  He  doubted  if  he  cared  enough 
about  it  to  do  the  work.     He  doubted  if  he  cared  about 


130  EGAN 

anything,  anjwray.  So  many  men  of  his  age,  so  much 
less  deserving,  so  much  less  competent  to  enjoy  good 
fortune  —  had  it.  It  looked  as  though  life,  after  all, 
were  a  matter  of  luck. 

He  had  taken  four  old  friends,  including  little 
Johnny  Jones,  to  lunch  at  the  Plainfield  House,  and 
the  check  had  amounted  to  fourteen  dollars  and  seventy 
cents.  He  had  given  the  waiter  two  dollars.  It  was 
dananable  that  a  man  should  have  to  think  of  these 
things.  Yet  in  his  present  state  of  finances,  he  couldn't 
help  thinking  about  it.  He  who  had  spent  money  like 
water  when  he  was  a  college  undergraduate,  had  now 
a  matter  of  eighteen  hundred  dollars  between  himself 
and  the  ultimate  zero;  and  he  would  unquestionably 
have  to  spend  fifteen  out  of  the  eighteen  on  the  pre- 
liminaries of  his  venture.  Pretty  soon,  he  might  ac- 
tually have  to  borrow.  .  .  . 

Of  course,  if  all  his  plans  came  nicely  to  fruition, 
he  would  be  rich  again.  And  they  were  clever  plans, 
too.  His  own.  But  he  couldn't  possibly  spread  two 
hundred  and  twenty  dollars  over  two  months.  It  was 
damnable ! 

A  white  envelope,  propped  against  an  ornamental 
candle-stick  on  his  bureau,  attracted  his  attention,  and 
wearily  he  edged  between  two  trunks  to  reach  it.  The 
Kents'  stationery.  Probably  a  note  from  Mrs.  Kent. 
To  thank  him,  no  doubt,  for  his  preservation  of  the 
peace  at  her  house-warming  dance. 

**  Dear  Bronson : 

"  In  spite  of  everything,  I'm  asking  you  to  come  over 
after  dinner  tonight,   because   Martha's    going  home 


EGAN  181 

Saturday,  and  she  likes  you.  Father  gets  in  from 
Washington  at  five.  We  won't  mention  last  night  to 
anybody.  Please  don't  ever  speak  of  it  to  mother. 
I  don't  believe  I'll  ever  forgive  you,  but  I'm  willing  to 
give  you  one  more  chance  to  see  if  you  know  how  to 
behave. 

"  M." 

Egan  read  the  note  twice.  He  replaced  the  missive 
in  its  envelope,  unlocked  the  door,  and  stepped  around 
to  Little  Johnny  Jones'  room. 

Little  Johnny  Jones  was  there,  reading  the  TimeSy. 
and  chuckling  over  the  art  column. 

"  Sorry,"  said  Egan,  "  but  I  can't  spend  the  evening 
with  you  after  all,  old  top." 

"  Why,  don't  apologize  to  me,  Bronson.  You  were^ 
the  one  suggested  it." 

"  I  know ;  I  had  some  business  to  talk  over  with  you.. 
But  it's  all  off.     I'm  going  somewhere  else." 

"  Going  lady-killing?  " 

"  Going  to  be  lady-killed,"  said  Egan.  "  I'm  going 
over  to  call  on  the  Kents.  And  say !  I  may  have  to 
ask  you  for  a  couple  of  things,  Johnny.  My  trunks 
are  here,  and  I'm  going  to  put  on  cits.  But  I  don't 
know  what  there  is,  and  — " 

"  I'll  lend  you  anything  you  need  from  a  shoe-horn 
to  a  scarf-pin,  Bronson." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Egan.  "  But  I  don't  think  I'll  have 
to  ask  you  for  a  scarf-pin,  Johnny.     I've  got  one.'* 


THE  laird  of  the  manor  of  Kent  (one  of  the 
oldest  and  most  honourable  manors  in  all  the 
county,  for  the  present  laird's  father  had 
bought  the  land  quite  sixty  years  ago,  when  Plainfield 
had  only  a  fourth-class  postoffice)  was  the  type  of  gen- 
tleman who,  if  you  had  met  him  for  half  a  dozen  min- 
utes, would  have  left  you  confident  that  he  was  a  citizen 
of  great  importance  in  his  own  community,  and  not  to 
be  sneezed  at  elsewhere.  This  confidence,  however,  he 
would  have  engendered  not  by  what  he  actually  said,  or 
even  intimated,  but  rather  by  what  he  withheld.  He 
was  a  stoutish  gentleman  of  passing  fifty,  pleasant  to 
look  at  when  his  mood  was  pleasant,  and  not  an  adver- 
sary to  be  ignored.  He  smiled  much,  and  talked  little, 
but  he  had  the  air  of  a  man  accustomed  to  dictatorship, 
and  few  could  overlook  it. 

If  you  had  hunted  up  his  patronymic  in  Who's  Who, 
you  would  have  found  precisely  the  kind  of  biography 
you  would  have  expected. 

KENT,  G(eorge)  Willoughby,  capitalist;  6.  Plain- 
field,  O.,  Feb.  21,  1865  ;  s.  Ephraim  and  Mary  G.  (Bos- 
worth)  K. ;  ed.  Plainfield  pub.  sch. ;  A.B.  Knox  coll., 
111.,  1887,  A.M.,  Wooster  U.,  1908,  LL.D.,  Knox,  1914 ; 
771.  Estelle  Rogers  of  Plainfield,  O.,  Aug.  5,  1889.  En- 
tered employ  Am.  Express  Co.,  Plainfield,  O.,  1888, 
Plainfield  Savings  Bank  1890,  Plainfield  Machine  Co. 
1893.     Purchased    control   of   Central   Machine    Co., 

1895.     Organized  Kent  Manufacturing  Co.  by  consol. 

132 


EGAN  133 

several  small  corporations  1898,  pres.  since  organiza- 
tion. Pres.  Plainfield  Lt.  and  Power  Co.  1899-1917, 
when  sold  to  municipality.  Also  pres.  Plainfield  Gear 
Co,  Dir.  Citizens  Trust  Co.  of  Plainfield,  Plainfield 
Savings  Bank,  Plainfield  Motor  Car  Co.,  County  Tele- 
phone Co.,  Wood  Products  Co.,  Interurban  Elec.  Rys., 
Plainfield  Hotel  Co.,  Electric  Foundry  Co.,  Egan  Co., 
High  Speed  Steel  Co.  Trustee  Plainfield  City  Hosp. 
Governor  Plainfield  Country  Club,  Metropolitan  Club. 
County  chmn.  Am.  Red  Cross.  Comd.  Lt.  Col. 
Q.M.O.R.C,  July  3,  1917.  Col.,  Q.M.C.,  U.S.A.  May 
6,  1918.  Mem.  Am.  Chem.  Soc,  Soc.  Automotive 
Engrs.,  A.I.E.E.,  Am.  Soc.  Mech.  E.,  S.A.R.,  etc. 
Republican.  Episcopalian.  Clubs.  Metropolitan, 
Citizens,  Fortnightly,  Plainfield  Country,  all  of  Plain- 
field,  O.     Home:     1404  Vine  St.,  Plainfield,  O. 

The  laird  of  the  manor  was  standing  before  the  living- 
room  fireplace,  his  feet  weU  apart,  his  hands  clasped 
beliind  him,  very  much  after  the  manner  of  the  English 
hunting  squires  whose  descendant  he  was  quietly  proud 
to  be.  He  had  hurried  out  of  uniform  several  hours 
ago,  but  in  his  rough  cheviot  suit,  he  still  looked  mili- 
tary, and  commanding,  and  was  perhaps  secretly  con- 
scious of  it.  Mr.  Kent  was  by  way  of  being  a  kindly 
autocrat,  but  in  the  present  moment,  he  faced  a  repre- 
sentative of  autocracy  such  as  he  himself,  lacking  the 
proper  ancestry,  had  never  practised.  Having  known 
Old  Man  Egan  in  his  prime,  Mr.  Kent  wasn't  wholly 
overjoyed  to  come  to  argument  with  Old  Man  Egan's 
son.  He  found  himself  wishing  that,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, Egan  had  come  in  his  Lieutenant's  uni- 
form, and  he  himself  had  worn  the  silver  eagles  of  his 


134  EGAK 

colonelcy.  It  would  have  established  their  relative  au- 
thority so  much  the  clearer. 

Unable  to  compete  with  Egan  on  purely  technical 
grounds,  he  sought  refuge,  at  length,  in  commercial 
generalities,  where  he  was  more  at  home. 

"But  civU  aerial  transportation?"  he  repeated. 
"  Well,  now,  I  don't  know  about  that." 

The  two  girls,  who  had  been  equally  startled  by 
Egan's  declaration  of  his  intentions,  also  looked  as 
though  they  didn't  know  about  it.  "  Oh,  what  a  per- 
fectly wild  idea,"  said  Mary,  indulgently. 

Mr.  Kent  gave  her  a  military  nod  of  approval. 

"  When  you  talk  about  the  airplane  as  a  military 
necessity,  I  can't  debate  with  you.  But  when  you  talk 
about  it  as  a  peace-time  method  of  transportation,  I'm 
entitled  to  an  opinion.  I've  been  connected  with  trans- 
portation companies  for  twenty  years  or  more.  It  may 
be  done;  I  don't  say  it  won't.  It  may  make  money;  I 
dare  say  it  will,  sometime.  But  I  don't  know  that  I'd 
advise  any  young  man  to  make  his  first  business  plunge 
in  such  an  uncertain  field.  Of  course,  I  can  see  the 
possibilities,  Bronson,  but  my  advice  is  to  let  it  alone. 
Leave  it  to  somebody  with  more  money  to  lose,  and  more 
experience  to  cash  in  on." 

Egan  was  respectfully  on  the  offensive.  "  What 
would  you  suggest  my  doing,  then.''  " 

Mr.  Kent  was  now  in  his  favourite  status  —  that  of 
a  gratuitous  counsellor.  "  Why,  if  I  were  in  your 
place,  I  think  I  should  pick  out  the  general  line  of 
business  I  wanted  to  grow  up  in,  and  then  I  think  I 
should  pick  out  the  best  individual  concern  in  that  line, 


EGAN  136 

and  then  I  think  I  should  take  any  job  in  it  I  could  get, 
and  let  the  future  work  itself  out." 

"  But  maybe  you  wouldn't  hire  him,  Father,"  said 
Mary  wickedly. 

"  Sh-h !  "  Mr.  Kent  smiled  at  Martha.  "  That's  a 
compliment,  but  it's  also  knocking  our  competitors. 
Maybe  Bronson  thinks  the  Henderson  outfit  has  better 
possibilities.  Strictly  as  a  matter  of  fact,  though,  I'd 
hire  him  in  a  minute." 

"  There  !  "  Mary  motioned  toward  Egan.  "  There's 
your  chance,  Bronson!  Take  him  up!  And  then 
everything's  settled." 

"  /  wouldn't,"  said  Martha  quietly. 

There  was  an  odd  little  pause.  "  What's  the  mat- 
ter, Martha  ?  "  asked  Kent  good-humouredly.  "  Do 
you  people  in  Dayton  think  of  bidding  for  him?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  "  No,  but  of  all  times  in  the 
world,  this  is  when  I'd  try  new  things  —  if  I  were  a 
man." 

"  But  it's  so  silly,"  protested  Mary.  "  Like  —  well, 
like  perpetual  motion.  Nobody'd  ever  want  to  ride 
in  one  of  those  noisy  things,  and  do  you  think  for  a 
minute  anybody'd  send  anything  in  one  of  'em,  if  they 
ever  wanted  to  see  it  again?  Bronson,  if  you  go  into 
that  scheme,  you're  just  a  plain  nut! " 

Egan  flinched.  "  I've  got  one  ally,  anyhow  — • 
haven't  I,  Miss  Henderson  ?  " 

"  I'd  do  exactly  what  I  want  to,"  she  assured  him* 
"  There  mightn't  ever  be  another  chance." 

As  Egan  smiled  his  gratitude  at  her,  he  intercepted 
a  glance  of  appraisal  from  Mary.     He  wondered  if,  in 


136  EGAN 

Mary's  estimation,  he  was  bestowing  too  much  of  his 
interest  upon  Martha.  He  deduced,  after  another  rec- 
onaaissance,  that  Mary  thought  he  was.  To  be  sure, 
he  had  practically  committed  himself  to  look  neither 
to  the  right  nor  to  the  left  until  Mary  had  put  herself 
out  of  his  reach  by  marrying  some  one  else;  but  he 
was  annoyed  that  she  should  even  notice  his  interludes 
with  Martha.  Mentally,  he  begged  Mary's  pardon  for 
thinking  of  the  dog  in  the  manger.  It  wasn't  a  nice 
thing  to  think  about,  but  it  fretted  him  that  she  should 
object  to  Martha,  of  all  girls  in  the  world.  Then  he 
blushed  for  the  scarf-pin  he  was  wearing,  and  he  was 
glad  that  it  was  such  a  universal  article.  He  realized 
now  that  Mary  might  be  piqued,  too,  that  he  had  sent 
American  Beauties  to  both  girls,  instead  of  to  Mary 
alone. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  said  Kent.  "  Rather 
than  have  you  put  your  neck  in  any  noose  like  that, 
I'll  find  you  a  place  in  my  office  any  time  you  want 
it." 

£gan  was  at  some  pains  to  restrain  his  indignation^ 

"  That's  just  the  point  —  you'd  have  to  find  it. 
That's  as  much  as  to  say  it  doesn't  exist  now.  Colonel 
Kent.  I  didn't  come  back  here  to  Plainfield  to  have 
any  one  find  a  place  for  me.  I  want  to  make  one  for 
myself.  And  I'm  going  to,  too.  And  I  don't  want  to 
trade  on  my  father's  reputation  either.  It's  good  of 
you  to  make  me  that  offer,  but  between  you  and  me,  I 
expect  to  make  more  money  by  myself  than  you'd  want 
to  pay  me." 

"  How  much  would  he  be  worth  to  you,  Father.'* " 
Mary  was  badgering. 


EGAN  137 

"  Oh,  probably  eighteen  or  twenty  dollars  a  week  to 
start." 

"  Eighteen  or  twenty ! "  Mary  was  overwhelmed. 
"  Why,  that  would  hardly  pay  for  his  laundry !  " 

Her  father  beamed  at  her.  "  I  began  on  three  dol- 
lars and  a  half,  myself."  He  didn't  go  on,  and  draw 
the  moral,  but  it  was  evident  to  all  three  of  the  younger 
people  that  Egan  had  been  delicately  criticized  for 
Mary's  exclamation.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Egan  him- 
self was  staggered  by  the  Colonel's  estimate  of  him.  He 
was  belittled.  He  had  expected  the  Colonel  to  say 
fifty  or  sixty  at  the  very  lowest  —  and  that  was  far  too 
low  for  a  man  of  Egan's  social  position. 

"  But  if  Bronson  only  had  that,  why,  he  couldn't  do 
anything !  Not  a  single  thing.  He  couldn't  belong  to 
the  Country  Club,  or  the  Metropolitan,  or  have  clothes 
or  ...  or  anything.  Is  that  the  best  he  could  get 
anywhere.''  Or  do  you  scrimp  more  than  other  manu- 
facturers do  ?  " 

"  It's  good  pay  for  a  young  man  with  no  business 
experience  at  all,  Mary.  And,  ordinarily,  I'd  pay  fif- 
teen. Every  year  we  take  a  few  college  graduates  — 
and  that's  where  Bronson  stands  now  —  and  we've  al- 
ways paid  'em  fifteen  to  start.  Then  they're  expected 
to  show  us  what  they  can  do,  and  they're  paid  accord- 
ingly. But  I  know  Bronson.  In  ten  years,  if  he 
worked  hard  and  kept  his  eyes  in  the  boat,  he'd  be  get- 
ting up  towards  the  head  oflBce,  and  drawing  real 
money." 

Mary  was  thoughtful.  "  Well,  then  I  guess  you'd 
better  take  it,  Bronson.  It  certainly  isn't  much,  but, 
after  all,  it's  a  lot  better  being  with  a  big  company 


138  EGAN 

like  ours  than  going  off  on  a  crazy  airplane  scheme. 
And  if  that's  where  all  the  other  young  men  begin, 
why—" 

Martha  was  again  pleasantly  opposed.  "  Don't  you 
let  them  manage  you,  Lieutenant  Egan,"  she  said. 
"  You  stick  to  your  principles." 

"  I'm  going  to,"  he  promised,  conscious  once  more 
that  he  had  awakened  at  least  a  spark  of  belligerence 
in  Mary.  "  And  I  hate  to  say  so,  Colonel  Kent,  but 
I'm  not  awfully  tempted,  anyway.  Why,  with  my  al- 
lowances and  all,  I  got  over  twenty-^ve  hundred  in  the 
Army,  and  everybody  knows  the  Army  pays  officers  less 
than  they'd  earn  anywhere  else." 

"  Any  time  you  change  your  mind,  come  and  see  me," 
said  Kent  heartily,  and  as  he  excused  himself,  he  was 
glad  that  the  argument  hadn't  become  acute.  He  was 
afraid  that  he  should  have  lost  his  temper.  An  Egan 
in  full  course  was  more  of  a  matador  than  a  steam- 
roller, and  the  Colonel  loathed  to  be  baited  by  a  younger 
man. 

For  the  balance  of  the  evening,  when  the  young  peo- 
ple were  alone,  Egan  took  a  philosophical  pleasure  in 
fanning  the  spark  he  had  aroused  in  Mary.  Not  that 
he  flirted  with  Martha  —  far  from  it.  But  he  liked 
her,  and  he  wasn't  unwilling  to  have  Mary  perceive  it. 
Furthermore,  he  was  a  trifle  dissatisfied  with  Mary's  at- 
titude toward  his  ambitions.  She  seemed  to  him  to  be 
remarkably  intolerant.  And  her  casual  assumption 
that  he  would  accept  her  father's  offer  —  an  offer 
which  was  charitable  on  the  face  of  it  —  irked  him.  In- 
deed, she  had  phrased  her  judgment  in  the  words  of  a 
command.     As  though  she  owned  him!     And  she  was 


EGAN  139 

piqued  not  only  because  he  had  rebelled,  but  also  be- 
cause he  had  collaborated  with  Martha  in  the  rebellion. 
Eighteen  or  twenty  dollars  a  week!  There  wouldn't 
be  many  American  Beauties  for  Mary  out  of  a  salary 
like  that !  He  couldn't  remember  when  he  had  been  so 
humiliated. 

Martha  was  first  to  withdraw  from  the  trio.  When 
she  had  gone,  Mary  was  punctual  with  upbraiding. 

"  Bronson  Egan,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  know  what  to 
think  of  you !  Here  I've  been  just  as  nice  to  you  as  I 
could  be,  and  forgiven  you  for  being  so  horrid  last  night, 
and  everything,  and  then  you  go  rushing  Martha  right 
in  front  of  my  eyes !  .  .  .  Oh,  she's  the  sweetest  girl  in 
the  world,  and  all  that  —  but  if  you're  in  love  with  her 
already,  after  what  you  said  to  me  — " 

*'  Wait.  .  .  .  Have  you  forgiven  me  ?  " 

She  dropped  her  eyes. 

"  Well,  I'll  admit  you  don't  deserve  it." 

"  Perhaps  I  don't.     But  have  you?  " 

"  Well,  I  might  have  if  you  hadn't  behaved  like  a 
regular  Lothario  tonight." 

In  spite  of  himself,  Egan  felt  a  joyous  thrill' of  ac- 
complishment. 

"  I'd  hardly  go  as  far  as  to  say  that." 

"  Well,  you  act  like  it.  And  the  way  you  looked  at 
her.  ...  Of  course,  it's  perfectly  immaterial  to  me,  but 
if  you  wanted  me  to  believe  you  meant  what  you  said. 
.  .  .  The  only  thing  is  that  I'd  really  like  to  know  just 
what  you're  thinking,  Bronson.  I'm  engaged ;  / 
haven't  any  right  to  criticize  you,  only  after  what  you 
said,  you  know  — " 

He  told  himself  raptly  that  at  least  she  wasn't  in- 


140  EGAN 

different  to  him.  It  was  something  to  be  scolded  like 
this. 

"  I'll  stand  by  what  I've  said,  Marj.  Can't  I  even 
look  at  your  friends  without  your  jumping  at  conclu- 
sions ?  " 

"  It  wasn't  only  that.  You  agreed  with  everything 
she  said  and  you  acted  as  though  /  didn't  have  any 
brains  at  all.  Of  course,  it's  none  of  my  affair,  only, 
if  you're  going  to  pretend  you  care  enough  for  me  to 
wait  imtil  .  .  .  well,  to  wait  .  .  .  and  at  the  same  time 
let  me  see  you  losing  your  head  over  some  other  girl  — 
why,  that's  different.  I  guess  it's  lucky  for  your  peace 
of  mind  that  she's  going  home  tomorrow  afternoon, 
isn't  it.?" 

"  Is  she  really  going  then.?  " 

"  There !     Didn't  I  tell  you ! " 

**  But,  Mary !  —  that  was  only  a  simple  question. 
I—" 

"  It  was  simple  enough." 

"  Please,  dear  — " 

She  tried  to  be  severe,  and  failed. 

"  Well  — "  At  his  first  movement,  she  shrank  back. 
"  Oh,  I  haven't  quite  forgiven  you  yet,  but  — " 

"But  almost?" 

«  Well  —  almost." 

Egan  sighed. 

"  Did  I  seem  to  you  to  lose  my  head,  Mary  ?  " 

"  You  —  well,  no.  Only  you  looked  as  though  you 
might." 

"  I'll  take  care  of  that,  all  right,"  said  Egan  con- 
fidently. 

Nevertheless  there  was  a  moment,  just  at  that  junc- 


EGAN  141 

ture,  when  he  was  honestly  puzzled.  He  certainly 
hadn't  lost  his  head,  but  while  Mary  had  been  displeas- 
ing him,  Martha  had  more  than  preserved  the  average 
of  his  content.  It  came  over  him,  involuntarily,  even 
while  he  was  busy  making  peace,  that  perhaps  he  had 
been  unfair  to  himself  when  he  covenanted  to  be  a 
second-string,  or  substitute,  suitor  to  Mary  Kent.  Not 
that  he  had  changed  his  mind  about  her  —  not  at  all  — 
but  the  arrangement  had  proved  to  be,  in  practice,  just 
a  little  bit  one  sided. 

As  he  was  saying  good  night  to  her,  her  father  re- 
appeared. 

"  Just  a  minute  before  you  go,  Bronson.** 
"  Certainly,  sir."  ' 

Accordingly,  the  two  men  were  later  together  in  the 
library.     Kent  began  without  preface. 

"  I've  been  running  over  your  air  proposition,  Bron- 
son.  Your  figures  are  splendid,  only  I  don't  believe 
you  can  raise  capital  enough,  and  I  don't  believe  you're 
the  man  to  run  it.  You're  too  young.  Somebody'U  do 
it,  and  make  a  big  thing  out  of  it,  but  you're  not  the 
man.  You  lack  commercial  training.  You'd  better 
come  with  us.  I'd  like  to  have  you  —  partly  for  your 
father's  sake,  but  mostly  for  your  own.  And  I  don't 
want  you  to  start  out  in  life  with  a  failure.  That's 
what  it'll  come  to,  if  you  go  on  with  this  idea  —  you 
mark  my  words.  And  I  believe,  with  us,  you'll  grow 
up  to  be  a  valuable  man.  So  I'm  willing  to  stretch  the 
point  a  little.  You'll  learn  quickly  —  I'll  give  you 
twenty-five  dollars  a  week  to  start." 

"  It's  hard  to  refuse  anything  that  comes  from  you. 
Colonel,  but  I'll  have  to." 


142  EGAN 

**  Why,  Bronson,  isn't  that  enough  for  you?  " 

**  No,  sir." 

**  Really  think  you're  worth  more,  do  you?  " 

**  Yes,  gir.     I  know  it." 

«*  WeU  —  how  much?  " 

"  Two  or  three  times,  at  least.** 

"Why,  Bronson!  Is  that  final?  Is  that  what  you 
really  think?  " 

"  Yes,  ColoneL  Frankly,  I'd  as  soon  work  for  you 
as  anybody,  if  I  intended  to  work  for  anybody.  But 
I  don't.  And  I  need  a  lot  more  money  than  that.  As 
Martha  said,  this  may  be  my  only  chance  to  be  inde- 
pendent.    I  want  to  go  on  with  it." 

Mr.  Kent  spread  his  hands.  "  All  right.  I'm  sorry. 
HowTl  you  raise  your  capital?  " 

"  For  the  present,  that's  a  secret," 

«  Oh !     Well  —  that's  all  I  wanted  to  say." 

£gan  hesitated. 

"  While  Fm  here.  Colonel, —  would  you  mind  telling 
me  what  you  know  about  my  father's  note  transaction 
at  your  bank?  And  why  you  think  our  company  went 
to  pieces  so  fast  afterward?  " 

The  Colonel  shook  his  head.  "  I  haven^t  any  idea. 
Fve  been  in  service,  and  I  didn't  even  hear  about  that 
note  until  the  auction  was  over.  If  I  had,  I  could  have 
saved  you  people.  And  Eddie  did  his  best  for  the  com- 
pany afterwards  —  he  let  Garrity  manage  iL  It  was 
hard  that  his  duty  as  city  attorney  made  him  lose  his 
own  money,  and  his  clients',  too,  when  the  city  had  to 
cancel  the  lease.  Incidentally,  I  didn't  have  anything 
to  do  personally  with  getting  your  land  —  that  is,  not 
until  it  was  put  on  the  market.     My  own  manager  wired 


EGAN  14S 

me  —  I  was  in  Washington  —  that  it  was  available,  and 
we  could  have  it.  Some  one  was  bound  to  get  it,  of 
course,  and  I  couldn't  see  why  I  should  stay  out  simply 
because  of  my  old  relationship  with  yoxir  father.  Of 
course,  I  was  a  director  in  your  company,  just  as  your 
father  was  in  mine.  Each  of  us  held  one  share  of  stock, 
that's  all.  Neither  of  us  ever  interfered  with  the 
other's  business.  I  hadn't  attended  one  of  your  meet- 
ings for  a  year  and  a  half.  So  I  don't  know  exactly 
what  did  happen,  but  I  do  know  that  Ed  Macklin  is  a 
pretty  good  loser." 

"  I  wondered  if  Henderson  could  have  started  any- 
thing. Helped  along  the  strike,  for  instance.  ...  I 
understand  a  lot  of  our  workmen  left  to  go  to  his  plant, 
and  he  was  interested  in  our  contracts  and  our  ma- 
chinery and  everything.     I  beg  your  pardon  if  I  — " 

"  That's  all  right.  He's  no  friend  of  mine,  Bronson, 
any  more  than  he  was  of  your  father's.  Martha  simply 
happens  to  be  a  friend  of  Mary's.  Why  —  I  wouldn't 
put  it  above  him.  That  doesn't  prevent  Martha  from 
being  pretty  nice,  though,  does  it?  " 

In  the  hallway,  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  Egan  encoun- 
tered Mary.  She  had  been  crying,  and  she  looked  like 
a  lovely,  heart-broken  child. 

"  Why,  Mary  dear ! "  he  said,  and  his  arms  went  out 
to  her. 

She  motioned  him  away.  "  I  heard  you.  I  heard 
you.     Every  word." 

"  You  listened.'  "  he  asked,  incredulous. 

"Yes,  I  did.  Wliy  shouldn't  I?  I  had  a  right  to 
listen.     I  thought  you  were  going  to  do  what  I  Tvant 


144  EGAN 

you  to  —  and  tell  Father  you'd  go  with  him.  And  you 
■ — you  just  made  the  horridest  suspicions  you  could 
al^out  —  about  Eddie,  and  Martha's  father.  I'm  going 
to  tell  them.  Both  of  them.  Go  away!  Go  away! 
Don't  touch  me !  I  don't  want  to  see  you  again  as  long 
as  I  live." 

Egan's  education  had  failed  to  include  the  lessons  of 
some  wise  woman.  His  arrogance  failed  him  at  the 
wrong  time.  He  obeyed.  He  thought  she  really  wished 
him  to.  He  didn't  touch  her,  and  miserably  he  went 
away. 


XI 

YEARS  afterward,  when  his  closest  friend  asked 
him  how  he  had  been  able  to  bear  up  so  well 
under  the  double  shock  —  the  loss  of  his  future 
and  the  loss  of  his  fiancee,  in  a  single  day  —  Egan  was 
slow  about  the  answer.  "  Well,"  he  said  finally,  "  it 
was  like  this ;  I  must  have  been  too  mad  to  have  any 
time  to  be  morbid." 

And,  indeed,  he  wasted  few  of  his  hours  in  valueless 
regrets.  He  had  a  remarkable  vitality,  which  refused 
to  let  him  be  idle,  unrebuked.  His  body,  as  well  as  his 
mind,  craved  action.  And,  in  addition,  he  had  suffered 
a  violent  concussion  of  his  pride.  Unable  to  endure 
the  stigma  of  being  without  money,  without  prestige, 
he  adopted,  not  the  complaining  course  of  a  weakling, 
but  the  strenuous  career  of  a  man  whose  only  weaknesses 
lay  in  his  strength. 

Notwithstanding  the  necessity  of  getting  rich  quick, 
he  clung  pertinaciously  to  his  social  requirements,  as  he 
saw  them.  In  the  earlier  days,  he  had  accepted  his 
lordship  as  a  pleasant  fact,  not  subject  to  analysis; 
but  when  he  perceived  the  value  of  analysis,  he  made  it, 
and  made  it  correctly. 

"  A  man  might  as  well  look  himself  in  the  face,"  he 
said  to  Johnny  Jones.  '*  I've  got  to  be  doing  some- 
thing all  the  time,  or  I  haven't  got  any  pep." 

Johnny  assented.  "  Considering  that  there's  hardly 
one  of  our  crowd  you  haven't  put  it  over  on,  one  way 
or  another  — " 

145 


14^6    ■  EGAN 

"  Just  so.     Any  time  I  slip,  good  night !  " 

"  Like  the  leader  of  a  wolf-pack,"  said  Johnny. 

"  Precisely.  That's  why  I'm  so  anxious  to  get  some 
of  these  schemes  moving." 

"  You're  fixed  all  right  for  money,  aren't  you  ?  " 

Egan  winced.  He  hated  to  be  reminded  of  his  status, 
which,  incidentally,  he  had  carefully  concealed  from 
the  world.  He  wasn't  soured  by  misfortune,  but  he 
fretted  actively  over  it.  A  dozen  times  a  day  he  was 
humiliated  by  the  thought  that  it  might  be  wise  to  quell 
/  his  inclinations,  and  begin  to  practise  economy.  Three 
or  four  times  out  of  each  dozen  emergencies,  he  revolted, 
and  let  the  inclinations  govern  him.  So  had  it  been 
today,  when  he  had  paid  his  dues  to  the  Metropolitan 
Club.  The  reserve  fund  to  be  applied  to  aeronautics 
was  little  enough,  anyway. 

"  Oh,  not  so  worse." 

*'  You're  an  awful  expense  to  yourself,  though,  hon- 
estly. Of  course,  I  suppose  you've  still  got  consider- 
able of  a  wad  left,  but  just  the  same,  I  could  live  on 
a  third  of  what  you  throw  away." 

"  Pretty  soon  you  won't  have  to,  Johnny.  Not  when 
we  get  the  insurance  game  running."  Egan's  manner 
implied  that  money  was  the  least  of  his  own  worries,  and 
not  a  subject  for  discussion. 

Johnny  looked  sidelong.  He  was  devoted  to  Egan, 
but  he  knew  in  his  heart  that  the  insurance  game 
wouldn't  run.  It  might  stumble  forward  once  or  twice, 
but  it  would  never  acquire  a  real  stride.  He  was 
afraid  to  betray  this  conviction  to  Egan,  because  Egan 
was  so  dogmatic.  Johnny  would  rather  let  his  friend 
be  converted  by  some  one  else,  than  to  quarrel  with  him. 


EGAN  147 

**  Making  any  progress  with  the  express  business  ?  " 

*'  First  class.  I  don't  see  what  more  I  could  have 
done  in  a  week.  I've  been  out  in  a  motor  looking  at 
land  — " 

"Hired  a  car,  I'll  bet!" 

"  Yes  —  certainly.     How  else  could  I  do  it  ?  " 

**  Wait  'til  Saturday  afternoon  or  Sunday  and  let 
one  of  the  gang  drive  you  'round  for  fun." 

"  Had  too  many  dates  for  the  week-end.  .  .  .  Well, 
I've  looked  at  land,  and  got  some  idea  of  costs,  and 
doped  out  a  prospectus."  ^ 

"To  be  printed.?" 

"  Oh,  no.  Just  so  as  to  have  it  all  down  in  black- 
and-white." 

"  Who's  going  to  be  your  salesman  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  am  myself." 

Johnny  wasn't  over-enthusiastic.  "  Think  that's  a 
good  idea.''  Personally,  I  never  could  see  where  there 
was  much  percentage  in  a  promoter's  going  out  and 
selling  his  own  proposition.  It's  so  much  better  to  hire 
a  crackajack  solicitor,  somebody  who  talks  the  lan- 
guage, and  pay  him  enough  commission  to  make  it  worth 
his  while  to  hustle.  When  you  go  out  with  it  yourself, 
you  lay  yourself  wide  open." 

Egan  gave  him  a  hoot  of  scorn.  "  D'you  think  I'd 
pay  anybody  a  commission  for  anything  as  easy  as  sell- 
ing stock  in  a  concern  like  this .''  When  it'll  practically 
sell  itself.''  Well,  hardly.  I  can  use  that  commission 
just  as  well  as  a  solicitor  can." 

Again,  Johnny  avoided  the  issue.     "  Got  any  bites 

yet.?" 

"  I  haven't  put  on  any  bait  yet.     But  when  I  spoke 


148  EGAN   ~^ 

of  it  at  dinner  the  otner  night,  both  Wilson  and  Penny- 
packer  got  interested  right  away,  and  Pennypacker 
came  up  here  afterwards  to  ask  a  lot  more  ques- 
tions. ..."  Egan  chuckled.  "  I  made  him  help  me 
move  trunks." 

"  Well,  has  he  got  any  money .''  " 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder.  He  said  something  about 
liquidating  some  securities  he  owns.  And  strictly  be- 
tween you  and  me,  he's  just  the  kind  of  man  we  want 
as  stockholders.  He  doesn't  know  the  first  blamed 
thing  about  aviation.     He'd  have  to  let  us  alone." 

"  Don't  fool  yourself  about  that !  He  wouldn't, 
whether  he  had  to  or  not.  Any  idea  what  he'd  put  up, 
if  he  put  up  anything.''  " 

*'  Oh,  when  you  come  right  down  to  it,"  said  Egan, 
superciliously,  "  I  don't  suppose  he  has  much.  Five  or 
ten  thousand'd  be  his  limit.     Still,  that's  a  start." 

"  I  hate  to  hear  you  talk  so  careless  about  money. 
Five  or  ten  thousand's  a  lot.^^ 

Egan  only  laughed.  "  To  change  the  subject,  how 
do  you  like  the  room,  now  I've  got  it  fixed  up?  " 

"Pretty  good." 

"  I  think  it's  a  corker."  Egan  inspected  it  with 
much  pleasure. 

"  Too  much  junk  to  take  care  of,  isn't  it  .J*  " 

«  I  don't  have  to  do  it." 

It  was  perhaps  a  blessing  that  he  didn't,  for  the 
room  would  have  given  a  conscientious  housekeeper  the 
blind  staggers.  It  was  a  kaleidoscopic  review  of  the 
past,  dating  from  1907,  when  Egan  had  sat  in  his  first 
group  photograph  of  a  high-school  football  team,  to 
the  week  before  last.     The  wall-paper  was  visible  only 


EGAN  149 

in  an  occasional  narrow  streak  between  two  pictures. 
Trophies  from  college  and  from  France  disputed  for 
shelf-room.  All  Egan's  prize  cups  were  in  evidence; 
a  winning  oar  was  there,  too ;  and  at  least  a  hundred 
pounds  of  correspondence,  in  cardboard  transfer-cases 
already  bursting  with  boredom. 

"  You've  certainly  made  it  easy  for  your  biog- 
rapher," said  Johnny,  thoughtfully.  .  "  But  I  notice 
you  haven't  brought  it  up  to  date  yet." 

"How's  that.?" 

"  I'm  looking  for  a  model  airplane,  or  something. 
Something  that  might  remind  you  of  next  year  instead 
of  last  3'ear  when  you  get  up  and  walk  — " 

**  Oh,  you  go  to  thunder !  "  said  Egan,  scaling  a  pil- 
low at  him.  "  What  have  you  been  doing  —  reading 
the  American  Magazine?  Or  studying  Professor  Tur- 
gid Bean's  book  on  how  to  judge  somebody's  character 
by  the  way  he  eats  soup.?  " 

"  Go  on  and  laugh.  .  .  .  Only  I  knows  what  I 
knows." 

"  Go  ahead  and  tell  it.     It  ought  not  to  take  long." 

"All  right,  I'll  tell  what  we  both  know.  It  won't 
take  any  longer.  .  .  .  Haven't  you  got  any  further 
than  Lesson  Two.''  " 

"What.?"  Egan  began  to  flush.  "What's  that 
you're  talking  about.?  " 

"  Lesson  Two.  '  Learn  to  be  a  Business  Executive. 
In  your  own  home.  Half  an  hour  a  day,  unless  addled 
sooner.'     Over  there  on  your  desk," 

Egan  made  as  though  to  rise,  and  sank  back  again, 
laughing. 

"  Oh,  that.     Business  Management.     Oh,  of  course 


150  EGAN 

it's  all  bunk.     I'm  only  reading  it  for  amusement.     I 
thought  I'd  put  those  books  out  of  sight." 

"  I  know  you  did,"  said  Johnny  gravely.  "  I  al- 
ways keep  mine  on  the  table  .  .  ." 

During  the  week,  Egan  had  called  twice  on  the  Kents, 
but  on  both  occasions  Mary  had  been  out.  He  was 
distressed  by  the  new  strain  in  their  relationship,  but 
he  had  too  much  faith  in  the  power  of  the  calendar  to 
consider  the  present  impasse  as  permanent.  Besides, 
his  daily  association  with  Judge  Perkins  was  calming  to 
his  nerves. 

He  also  took  much  pleasure  from  the  company  of 
Adams.  Adams,  sitting  shoeless  in  his  room  at  twi- 
light, was  capable  of  almost  as  many  visions  as  Egan. 
With  his  feet  resting  on  the  window-sill,  and  a  good 
cigar  giving  off  its  aroma  to  his  nostrils,  Adams  occu- 
pied himself,  as  long  as  Egan  would  listen  to  him,  with 
disconnected  accounts  of  the  vast  fortunes  made  in  New 
York  by  men  no  older  than  Egan. 

"  Yes,"  said  Adams.  "  About  all  you  need  is  fore- 
sight and  capital.  There  was  a  chap  just  about  your 
age.  There  was  an  old  hulk  down  on  the  Jersey  shore. 
Wrecked.  The  owners  had  taken  her  machinery  out 
of  her  and  left  her  there.  This  chap  figured  she  could 
be  salvaged,  and  have  sails  bent  on  her,  and  do  for  a 
freighter.  This  was  in  1914.  So  he  borrowed  $60,000, 
and  got  her  off  the  sand,  and  fitted  her  up,  and  sold  her 
—  the  war  had  started  then  —  for  $175,000  cash.  Now 
he's  in  the  shipping  business,  making  a  million  a  year.'* 

"  And  all  he  had  was  foresight ! " 

Adams  gently  brushed  the  ash  from  his  cigar.    "  Yes, 


EGAN  151 

and  capital  —  or  rather  credit,  but  it  amounts  to  the 
same  thing  .  .  .  and  I  suppose  he  knew  something 
about  ships,  too." 

"  Oh,  yes  —  of  course." 

"  Then  there  was  a  nice  young  fellow  who  was  in 
England  just  after  the  war  started.  Out  of  a  job,  too, 
I  guess.  And  as  soon  as  they  began  to  talk  about  a 
long  war,  he  saw  an  opening,  and  dashed  for  it.  He  got 
turned  down  in  England,  and  then  he  dashed  over  to 
France.  And  the  result  of  it  was  that  he  got  a  com- 
mission of  about  two  cents  a  gallon  on  at  least  half 
the  gasolene  that  went  over  there.  I  don't  dare  to 
guess  how  much  he  made.  And  that's  the  same  story 
over  again." 

**  Foresight !  Just  where  we've  got  'em !  And  I've 
got  a  little  capital." 

"  To  be  sure ;  to  be  sure.  He  saw  the  big  chance, 
and  took  it.  Didn't  even  have  any  capital.  But  he'd 
worked  ten  years  for  the  Standard  Oil  Company,  and 
he  knew  the  business." 

"  I've  always  felt  that  I  could  make  money  if  I  had 
to,"  said  Egan,  hushed.  "  It's  nothing  but  a  question 
of  the  right  idea  — " 

"  And  the  right  people  to  run  it,"  said  Adams,  unob- 
trusively. 

"  And  a  little  money  in  the  bank."  He  breathed  reg- 
ularly.    "  We'll  all  be  rich  some  day.  Uncle  Stanley." 

"Ever  decide  for  yourself  just  what  that  means.''  " 

**  Y-e-e-s,  in  a  way  ...  I  don't  think  I'd  ever  want 
any  more  than  my  father  had.  Enough  to  be  comfort- 
able on." 

"  You  would  be,  Bronson." 


152  EGAN 

Egan  looked  at  him  suspiciously.  "  You're  still  sure 
of  the  Transport  Company,  aren't  you?  You  haven't 
got  cold  feet,  have  you  ?  Don't  you  think  we  three  — 
or  four,  counting  in  Johnny  —  don't  you  still  think 
we're  going  to  make  a  lot  out  of  it.  Uncle  Stanley  ?  " 

Adams  put  down  his  feet,  and  gazed  at  the  ash  of  his 
cigar.  "  Yes,  Bronson.  If  I  didn't,  I  wouldn't  be  so 
willing  to  quit  my  job  on  the  Times  and  come  with  you, 
would  I.''  I  think  we're  going  to  get  a  lot  out  of  it, 
Bronson  —  a  lot." 


XII 

MR.  EDWARD  MACKLIN  was  no  cloying 
sentimentalist  with  cereal  for  brains  and  a 
smirk  for  every  pretty  passer-by;  on  the 
contrary,  he  was  a  cool,  alert,  well-poised  young  attor- 
ney who  in  his  time  had  been  a  rattling  good  plunging 
halfback,  and  still  looked  it.  He  could  ride  and  shoot 
and  sail  and  swim  with  the  best  of  his  sex,  and  some- 
times did,  but  at  other  moments,  he  was  extremely  fond 
of  the  society  of  girls,  and  not  ashamed  of  it.  ^It  was 
his  boast,  however,  that  in  politics  of  all  kinds,  he  knew 
what  he  was  doing,  every  minute.  And  he  knew,  a 
minute  beforehand,  what  he  was  going  to  do  next. 

Among  men,  he  had  rather  a  reputation  as  a  cryptic 
(as  far  as  any  politician  could  afford  to  be)  but  it 
would  have  been  a  very  difficult  matter  for  any  girl  of 
social  experience  —  a  girl  like  Martha  Henderson,  for 
example  —  to  misunderstand  him.  Heredity  and  en- 
vironment, delicately  balanced,  had  given  him  a  dis- 
tinctive set  of  traits,  and  a  distinctive  method  of  exer- 
cising them ;  men  were  baffled  by  them,  women  were  flat- 
tered. A  most  accomplished  squire  of  dames,  he  had 
never  permitted  any  girl  to  imagine,  even  remotely,  that 
her  future  depended  on  him,  until,  after  a  long  cam- 
paign of  research,  he  had  carefully  and  logically  se- 
lected the  one  who  best  would  complement  his  career. 

Miss  Millicent  McCain,  however,  was  lacking  in 'ex- 
perience. To  be  sure,  her  striking  ash-blondness  and 
her  big,  expressive  eyes  had  already  got  her  several 

153 


154.  EGAN 

desperate  proposals  from  impecunious  young  gentlemen 
hardly  within  the  draft  age,  but  she  wasn't  plastic 
enough  to  have  acquired  maturity  out  of  these  inci- 
dents. She  was  the  sort  of  girl  who  could  live  indefi- 
nitely without  absorbing  sufficient  j  oy,  or  sufficient  sor- 
row, to  be  mature;  the  sort  of  girl  whose  children,  if 
she  ever  had  any,  were  predestined  to  become  her  guard- 
ians before  they  were  out  of  their  teens. 

She  was  just  now  approaching  the  age  at  which 
every  girl,  no  matter  how  innocent,  no  matter  how 
womanly,  regards  every  detached  young  man,  perhaps 
without  crystallizing  the  idea  into  conscious  thought, 
as  a  more  or  less  eligible  candidate  for  the  serious  part- 
nership of  life.  But  Millicent,  on  the  threshold  of  that 
age,  was  also  on  the  point  of  crystallizing  that  thought. 

Naturally,  then,  she  had  misjudged  Bronson  Egan, 
and  put  him  down  in  the  hst  of  cold-blooded  aristo- 
crats. Her  first  interview  with  him  had  excited  her 
acutely,  and  after  it  she  had  thought  that  he  was  al- 
most grand  enough  to  be  the  hero  of  a  novel ;  but  sub- 
sequently, as  she  slowly  gathered  that  he  had  no  more 
sentimental  interest  in  her  than  in  a  newel-post,  she 
was  both  shocked  and  insulted.  The  armour  of  the 
hero  had  misled  her  into  thinking  a  hero  inside.  She 
had  fancied  that  he  would  straightway  buy  back  from 
her  mother  that  worthless  Egan  stock  —  not  as  an  act 
of  impulsive,  short-sighted  altruism,  but  in  swift  reac- 
tion to  the  charms  of  Millicent.  She  had  so  dreamed, 
and  so  buHt.  Then,  when  she  learned  that  he  had  no 
intention  of  reviving  the  dramatic  part  of  King  Co- 
phetua,  she  lost  a  large  fraction  of  her  admiration  for 
him ;  and  she  lost  most  of  the  rest  of  it  when  it  appeared 


EGAN  155 

that  he  was  poor  in  pocket,  and  critical  of  his  break- 
fast. It  was  enough  to  irritate  the  best  of  daughters ! 
Thereafter,  she  followed  the  normal  procedure  —  nor- 
mal for  a  girl  of  her  tendencies  —  of  arguing  that  all 
his  outward  qualities  were  as  deceiving  as  his  sentiments. 
He  ceased  to  be  a  courtier  in  her  eyes.  He  ceased  al- 
most to  be  a  gentleman.  He  was  a  polished  villain ;  and 
as  she  devoured  apples  and  Robert  W.  Chambers  in  the 
solitude  of  her  own  room,  she  could  almost  see  him 
stalking  cold-bloodedly  through  the  pages  of  her  book 
until  he  died,  in  the  ante-penultimate  chapter,  a  con- 
science-tortured suicide.  By  that  time,  Millicent  her- 
self would  presumably  have  married  the  Christy  illus- 
tration in  the  frontispiece,  and  lived  happily  ever 
after. 

Nothing  galled  her  so  much,  now  that  her  antagonism 
towards  him  was  feeding  fat,  as  the  necessity  of  caring 
for  his  room.  She  was  still  outraged  by  the  necessity 
of  helping  out  Georgina,  and  caring  for  any  man's  room 
at  .all,  but  some  of  the  other  quarters  were  moderately 
endurable,  and  some  of  them  even  had  their  points  of 
attraction.  Stanley  Adams'  apartment,  for  example, 
was  beautifully  ascetic ;  she  felt  no  more  personality  in 
it  than  in  a  hospital  cell.  Judge  Perkins'  room  was 
soothingly  dry  with  law  and  tobacco  smoke.  Johnny 
Jones'  room  was  as  laughable  as  a  vaudeville  perform- 
ance, except  when  he  had  put  cigarette  ashes  in  the 
washbowl.     Mr.  Ganzenberry's  had  lovely  pictures  in  it. 

But  Egan's  room  had  the  power  of  affecting  her  with 
mysterious  qualms.  She  hated  to  enter  the  door;  but 
once  inside  she  hated  to  go  out  again.  It  was  a  semi- 
morbid  hypnosis  beyond  her  comprehension.     She  knew 


156  EGAN 

only  that  to  touch  the  pillow  his  head  had  rested  upon 
filled  her  with  abhorrence ;  and  yet  with  a  certain  fugi- 
tive pleasure  in  the  abhorrence  itself.  His  personal  be- 
longings were  as  mesmeric  as  snakes ;  potent  to  arouse 
curiosity;  potent  to  arouse  the  wish  to  destroy,  as 
though  the  destruction  of  them  meant  personal  injury 
to  himself.  His  clothing  made  her  turn  pale  with  in- 
determination ;  she  used  to  stand  sometimes,  wondering 
vaguely  and  half-hystericaUy  what  she  could  do  to  vent 
her  fury  upon  these  immaculate  garments  of  his,  which 
seemed  to  be  alive  with  his  own  person.  Alive,  but 
without  emotion.  So  diabolically  characteristic  of  the 
man  himself.  Especially  his  uniform,  now  hanging 
neatly  in  the  closet,  aroused  her  passion.  He  had 
looked  so  brave,  so  soldierly  in  it  when  she  had  come 
upon  him  that  first  morning.  If  she  had  dared,  she 
would  have  carried  that  treacherous  uniform  out  by  the 
tips  of  her  fingers  and  burned  it.  She  prayed  —  with- 
out a  spark  of  hiunour  —  for  moths  to  ruin  it.  Once 
she  kissed  it,  over  the  heart ;  and  that  was  the  day  she 
wondered  if  it  would  pay  to  run  away  and  be  an  actress. 

And  as  Egan  gradually  took  upon  himself,  more  and 
more  distinctly,  the  role  of  villain  in  the  novel  she  was 
mentally  constructing  out  of  her  own  life,  the  obvious 
mechanics  of  the  situation  compelled  her,  since  there 
was  no  Christy  illustration  among  her  lesser  acquaint- 
ances, to  cast  Macklin  for  the  hero. 

Macklin  was  good-looking.  He  was  prominent  in 
politics,  and  aiming  higher,  and  he  was  said  to  have 
good  aim.  As  her  mother's  lawyer,  he  had  been  al- 
ways kind  and  casually  attentive  to  MUlicent.  He  had 
almost  wept  when  the  Egan  disaster  ruined  the  McCain 


EGAN  157 

fortunes,  and  he  had  told  Mrs.  McCain  that  they  were 
fellow-sufferers.  He  had  made  a  community  of  feeling 
out  of  it.  He  had  sympathized  with  them  to  the  ex- 
tent of  offering  Millicent  a  clerkship  in  his  office;  but 
Mrs.  McCain  couldn't  spare  her.  He  had  persuaded 
the  City  Hospital  to  rent  them  the  Egan  house  at  a 
remarkably  low  figure,  and  he  had  sent  them  three 
boarders.  It  was  degrading  to  take  boarders,  and  the 
three  he  had  sent  were  all  rather  eccentric,  but  if  one 
had  to  take  them,  it  was  well  to  have  a  friend  to  serve  as 
reference,  and  provider.  If  Macklin  had  got  control 
of  the  Egan  Company  sooner,  its  downfall  might  ac- 
tually have  been  averted  by  his  efforts.  Like  son,  like 
father.  Perhaps  Old  Man  Egan  had  been  a  villain, 
too. 

And  Macklin  wasn't  nearly  so  recessive,  so  formal,  as 
Egan.  He  shook  hands  differently,  lingering  over  the 
courtesy  as  did  the  patrician  suitor  on  page  124.  He 
had  twice  patted  her  shoulder  at  farewell.  How  could 
she  know  that  this  was  merely  a  reaction  from  the 
chronic  aloofness  of  his  evangelistic  mother,  and  the 
touch-me-not  acidity  of  his  sister?  He  was  no  senti- 
mentalist, but  he  had  never  known  affection  in  his  own 
refrigerated  home;  so  that  he  bestowed  it  charitably 
upon  horses  and  dogs and  girls  like  Millicent. 

She  didn't  know  of  his  predilection  for  Mary  Kent. 
That  engagement  had  never  been  announced,  and  gossip 
rarely  drifted  from  the  upper  levels  of  Plainfield  society 
down  to  Millicent.  She  never  dreamed  how  Macklin 
still  sensed  that  the  quickening  of  the  pulses  under  the 
influence  of  a  pretty  face  doesn't  by  any  means  guaran- 
tee a  cheerful  companionship  for  ever,  or  any  tangible 


158  EGAN 

assistance  to  a  sprouting  career.  She  didn't  suspect 
that  Macklin,  calculating  even  in  his  loneliness,  refused 
to  faU  or  stumble  into  love,  because  he  felt  that  it  would 
be  just  as  easy  to  fall  or  stumble  out  of.  She  took  it 
for  granted  that  he  would  marry  from  instinct,  which 
isn't  at  all  the  same  as  marrying  from  choice.  And  on 
this  assumption,  why  shouldn't  he  marry  Millicent  ?  It 
would  be  such  a  stunning  blow  to  Egan. 

Yes,  Macklin  was  a  success.  In  popular  estimation, 
he  was  going  up,  while  Egan  was  going  down. 

She  was  reading  a  comic  paper  one  day,  and  ran 
across  a  superannuated  story  which  was  new  to  her.  A 
gentleman  in  a  restaurant  had  ordered  soft-shelled 
crabs ;  when  they  were  brought  to  him,  they  were  minus 
the  claws.  The  waiter,  replying  to  a  vigorous  protest, 
explained  that  a  score  of  live  crabs,  left  unguarded, 
had  engaged  in  a  battle  royal,  and  that  some  of  them 
had  consequently  been  disarmed. 

"  Then  take  them  back,"  said  the  guest  promptly, 
"  and  bring  me  a  couple  of  the  winners." 

Long  after  she  had  forgotten  the  style  of  the  story, 
she  was  influenced  by  its  lesson.  A  moral  is  a  moral, 
whether  contained  in  a  farce  comedy  or  not.  Only  the 
future  ages  can  decide  whether  Billy  Sunday's  humour 
has  been  more  effective  than  the  gravity  of  Dr.  Tal- 
mage. 

Eddie  Macklin,  striding  buoyantly  into  the  gilt  and 
fragile  drawing-room  of  the  old  Egan  mansion,  found 
it  tenanted  only  by  Miss  McCain,  who  had  dropped  on 
her  lap  a  volume  by  her  third  favourite  author,  and 
was  wondering  blissfully  how  it  would  seem  to  have 


'  / 


EGAN  159 

Maurice  Hewlett  write  about  her.  Macklin  smiled,  and 
coughed  lightly,  and  Millicent  started. 

"  Oh !  "  she  said.  "I  —  I  —  I  didn't  know  you  were 
there!" 

"  Well,  I  am,"  said  Macklin. 

She  gave  him  her  hand  as  aristocratically  as  she 
could  manage,  and  surveyed  him  from  under  her  telling 
lashes.  Macklin  had  a  thrill;  not  the  kind  of  thrill 
which  threatens  employment  to  the  caterer  and  en- 
graver —  indeed,  Mary  Kent  herself  had  never  given 
him  that;  it  was  solely  in  recognition  of  the  facts. 
She  was  as  fascinating  as  a  young  kitten,  with  equal 
grace  and  superior  deportment,  just  as  warmly  alive 
and  no  more  dangerous. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down.''  '* 

"  In  a  minute."     He  was  still  smiling  down  at  her. 

Millicent  caught  her  breath.  She  misunderstood  the 
light  in  his  eyes.  The  book  sprawled  to  the  floor  as 
Millicent  stood  tremulously  upright,  almost,  defensive. 

"  What's  the  excitement  about .''  "  asked  Macklin,  and 
because  she  was  very  near  to  him,  and  —  to  his  way  of 
thinking  —  as  safe  as  his  angular  sister  and  vastly  more 
appealing,  he  slipped  his  arm  around  her,  in  strict  neu- 
trality of  emotion.  Instantaneously,  Millicent  went 
stone-rigid;  and  instantaneously,  he  was  aware  of  his 
egregious  error.  Some  one  had  taken  him  seriously, 
and  when  he  least  expected  it.  Before  he  knew  what 
was  happening,  she  had  crumpled  against  him,  and 
buried  her  face  against  his  coat. 

Macklin  was  paralysed.  No  one,  not  even  Mary 
Kent,  had  ever  before  cried  on  his  shoulder,  as  Millicent 
was  doing  now.     Intuitively,  although  without  guilt,  he 


160  EGAN 

knew  what  it  meant;  just  as  he  had  known  intuitively, 
years  ago,  when  he  had  had  his  ears  boxed  for  the  first 
time  by  a  girl,  that  the  tingle  carried  full  forgiveness 
with  it.  Those  are  the  only  two  known  instances  in 
which  a  woman  isn't  subtle. 

"  Oh,  Eddie ! "  she  said,  in  a  funny,  muffled,  broken 
little  voice.     "Oh  —  Eddie !  » 

He  continued  to  hold  her,  because  he  didn't  know 
what  else  to  do.  His  numbed  faculties  took  the  form 
of  a  reflective  narration  to  himself  in  the  present  tense, 
as  though  he  were  describing  to  himself  what  a  predica- 
ment he  was  in,  what  a  compromise.  She  clung  to  him 
more  tightly,  and  his  throat  was  dusty  and  his  eyes  were 
hot  and  strained.  If  any  one  should  come  in !  The 
existing  moment,  even  while  he  was  so  exquisitely  con- 
scious of  its  peril,  seemed  not  to  exist,  but  to  be  a  recol- 
lection of  some  distant  horror,  long  since  in  the  past. 

"  I  really  don't  see  what  I  can  do  about  changing 
your  room,  Mr.  Ganzenberry.  I  — "  Mrs.  McMCain 
pushed  open  the  portieres,  and  Mrs.  McCain,  not  being 
as  careful  of  her  utterances  as  people  surprised  are 
often  supposed  to  be,  cried  out  sharply  and  frenziedly: 
"  MUUcentl " 

In  the  doorway,  the  little  artist  was  standing  with 
hands  upraised,  in  ministerial  amazement.  Mrs.  Mc- 
Cain motioned  furiously  to  him.  "  Go  back ! "  she 
said.  "  Go  back.  Out  of  the  house.  Anywhere  .  .  ." 
Very,  very  reluctantly,  Mr.  Ganzenberry  went  back. 
He  had  seen  a  picture  that  he  wouldn't  forget.  It  gave 
him  a  beautiful  idea  for  a  cover-design  that  he  might 
conceivably  sell  to  a  magazine.  Startled  lovers,  with 
Mother  at  the  door. 


EGAN  161 

Millicent,  forest-wild,  had  fled  headlong.  Macklin, 
nervous  to  his  finger  tips,  was  standing  by  the  window, 
in  a  very  black  and  chilly  mood.  Mrs.  McCain,  thor- 
oughly aroused  for  once  in  her  pale  blue  life,  faced  him. 
Her  chin  was  very  mobile,  and  she  was  breathing  un- 
pleasantly through  her  nose.  Her  whole  body  vibrated 
with  wrath.  Her  white  collar,  ordinarily  impeccable, 
was  all  awry,  and  Macklin  couldn't  keep  his  eyes  from 
it,  couldn't  keep  it  froDj  coming  irrelevantly  into  his 
thoughts.  He  wished  it  could  somehow  get  straight- 
ened. 

"  And  you  have  the  gall  —  the  unmitigated  gall,"  she 
said,  in  a  penetratingly  low  voice,  "  to  stand  there  and 
tell  me  —  me  —  it  was  just  in  fun!  Fun!"  She  was 
moving  towards  him,  and  Macklin  was  steadily,  unwill- 
ingly, backing  away.  "What  do  you  mean  by  it? 
How  can  you  dare  to  stand  there  and  tell  me  —  me  —  a 
thing  like  that !  Lay  your  hands  on  my  daughter,  and 
say  it's  nothing !  In  my  own  house !  In  a  public  room ! 
Do  you  think  for  one  minute  I'm  fool  enough  to  believe 
my  daughter  lets  every  Tom,  Dick  and  Harry  that 
comes  along  make  love  to  her  in  her  own  house?  I 
want  you  to  answer  me  — " 

"  I'm  trying  to,"  said  Macklin,  sullenly.  He  had 
attempted  honey,  and  injured  innocence,  without  re- 
sult.    "  If  you'd  be  calm  and  — " 

"  Yes  —  *  be  calm ! '  You'd  be  calm  yourself, 
wouldn't  you?  That's  a  man  for  you !  Be  calm !  An- 
swer me !  "  She  stamped  her  foot  heavily.  "  Answer 
me!" 

Macklin  put  out  his  hand. 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  believe  what  I  tell  you  — " 


162  EGAN 

**  Believe  what  you  tell  me  when  I  saw  you  with  my 
own  eyes?  I  know  better.  What's  fun  for  you  may 
not  be  quite  so  funny  for  me,  young  man." 

Macklin  found  himself  cornered.  "  I've  told  you 
over  and  over  again.  I'm  sorry.  I'll  apologize  until 
I'm  black  in  the  face,  but  that  won't  change  the  facts. 
She  took  it  the  wrong  way.  So  do  you.  There  wasn't 
any  harm  in  it — " 

"  Oh!  Wasn't  there.?  How  do  you  know.?  /'m  the 
one  to  decide  that,  young  man.  So  it's  just  that! 
*  No  harm  in  it ! '  *  Yoa  didn't  mean  anything  at 
all ! ' "  Her  breathing  became  more  pronounced. 
'*  Well,  just  you  wait  while  I  bring  Millicent  down  here 
and  let's  have  you  tell  her  that.  Let's  find  out  what  she 
thinks  you  meant.  Let's  see  how  funny  it  is  to  her. 
You  wait ! " 

"  No.  Don't  do  that."  Macklin  had  sidled  out  of 
his  corner,  and  arrested  her  just  in  time.  "  I  tell  you 
that's  all  there  is  to  it.     Damn  it  — " 

"  Don't  you  dare  to  swear  in  my  house !  I  won't 
gtand  it !     As  though  it  isn't  enough  — " 

"  I  tell  you,  it's  ridiculous.  It's  impossible.  You 
don't  understand.     You  — " 

"Oh — ridiculous,  is  it?"  She  shuddered,  and 
Macklin  drew  back. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  stoutly,  **  ridiculous.  For  one  thing, 
because  it  was  all  in  fun,  as  I've  said  over  and  over 
again  ;  and  for  another  — "  He  determined,  hurriedly, 
upon  the  only  alibi  that  would  probably  end  any  of  her 
ideas  that  she  could  coerce  him  into  a  declaration. 
" —  because  I'm  engaged.  You'll  simply  have  to  be- 
lieve me,  Mrs.  McCain.     I'm  not  as  bad  as  you'd  make 


^     EGAN  163 

me  out  to  be.     It  was  —  just  a  moment.     I'm  sorry. 
If  I'd  the  faintest  idea  in  the  world  she'd  take  it — '* 

"  So  you're  engaged.''  "  she  asked,  her  voice  suddenly 
falling.  "  Engaged !  Engaged  to  be  married  to  — 
some  other  girl.  And  then  you  come  — "  She  laughed 
scornfully  in  his  face.  "  Did  you  think  I  owe  you  so  ^ 
much  you  could  do  as  you  like  around  here.''  With 
MiUi/?  " 

"  You  owe  me  a  good  deal,"  said  Macklin.  "  I 
shouldn't  have  mentioned  it  if  you  hadn't." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  her  mouth  working. 
Then  she  flung  out  her  hand  towards  the  door. 

"  You  leave  the  house,"  she  said.  "  I'll  tell  Milly 
myself.  You're  not  fit  to.  If  you  ever  dare  speak  to 
her  again  I  .  .  .  I'll  .  .  .  Get  out  of  here,  you  .  .  . 
you  swindler !  Yes,  that's  what  I  said !  You've  swin- 
dled Milly  out  of  ...  I  can't  bear  the  sight  of  you. 
I  can't  bear  to  look  at  you.  Get  out !  And  don't  you 
ever  show  your  nose  around  here  again." 

Macklin,  white  and  apprehensive,  went  a  step  or  two. 

*'  What  I  came  up  for,"  he  said,  coldly,  "  as  I've 
told  you  over  and  over  again,  was  to  show  you  a  way 
to  get  back  the  money  you  lost  in  Egan  stock.  And  if 
this  is  the  way  you  take  it  — " 

Against  her  will,  she  heard;  and  hearing,  she  lost 
what  mental  balance  she  had  retained. 

"  You  know  my  —  you  know  my  own  money  —  every 
penny  I  had  —  you  know  — "  She  was  shaking  with 
rage.  "  What  are  you  trying  to  do  —  you!  Trying 
to  buy  —  trying  to  buy  my  daughter  with  your  dirty 
fifty  thousand  dollars.''  " 

Privately,  Macklin  said  to  himself  that  she  wasn't 


164  EGAN 

worth  it.  "  No,  Mrs.  McCain.  I'm  trying  to  sho\r 
jou  how  you're  misjudging  me.  I  came  to  do  you  a 
tremendous  piece  of  good.     I  — " 

"  You've  done  enough.  I  won't  hear  you  \  Will  you 
go,  or  shall  I  — " 

He  realized  that  he  should  have  to  go,  and  return 
when  she  was  more  tractable.  He  made  a  final  effort  to 
be  nonchalant. 

"  Well  —  what  ?     Call  the  police .?  " 

"  No,"  she  said.     "  Just  Milly." 

Her  eyes  were  like  gimlets  through  his  mind  as  he 
went  out. 

Mr.  Ganzenberry  was  complacently  sitting  on  the 
front  steps  and  sketching  on  the  back  of  an  old  envelope 
as  Macklin  slammed  his  way  out  of  the  house. 


XIII 

GRADUALLY,  at  the  end  of  his  third  week  in 
Plainfield,  there  stole  over  Egan  the  conscious- 
ness that  his  money  was  melting  away  far  too 
rapidly.  He  had  never  squandered  energy  on  an  ex- 
pense account,  and  he  had  never  bothered  to  live  on  a 
budget  system.  He  wished,  whimsically,  that  some- 
body could  treat  him  with  chemical  which  would  have 
the  same  effect  on  him  as  creosote  has  on  a  roof.  He 
wanted  to  be  expenditure-proofed. 

If  he  had  intended  to  go  to  work  in  one  of  Plain- 
field's  old  and  settled  concerns,  his  present  bank  bal- 
ance, of  course,  would  remain  as  a  decent  nest-egg. 
But  the  greater  part  of  that  balance  was  consecrated  to 
investment  in  his  own  company.  There  were  only  three 
avenues  of  refuge  open  to  him,  and  two  of  these  were 
dangerous.  One  was  to  draw  upon  the  reserve  fund, 
and  trust  to  luck ;  one  was  to  borrow  shamelessly^  from 
the  Honourable  George;  one  was  to  persuade  some 
open-minded  friend  to  subscribe,  even  before  incorpora- 
tion, for  a  block  of  Transport  stock.  Then  Egan 
could  legitimately  pay  himself  a  commission  out  of  it, 
or  even  a  salary. 

The  last  of  the  three  possibilities  appealed  to  him. 
It  would  test  out  his  ability  as  a  salesman,  and  it  would 
provide  him  with  funds  without  disclosing  his  need  of 
them.  And  Egan  shrank  with  horror  from  any  deed, 
or  vord,  which  would  suggest  even  to  his  closest  friends 

165 


166  EGAN 

that  he  hadnt  still  some  pretty  considerable  resources 
of  his  own.  He  went  so  far  as  to  regret  his  confession 
to  Judge  Perkins. 

The  choice  of  his  first  subscriber  was  a  matter  of 
nice  discrimination.  £gan  began  to  consider  it  on  Sat- 
urday afternoon,  while  he  was  practically  unrecognis- 
able in  a  sea  of  lather  at  the  barber's,  and  he  continued 
to  reelect  upon  it  during  his  manicure,  later.  He  was 
loath  to  make  orertures  to  any  of  his  younger  Vine 
Street  friends,  and  he  was  particularly  averse  to  sound- 
ing Adams,  or  Jones,  or  KenL  Whatever  he  did,  he 
must  do  circumspectly,  almost  indifferently;  and  his 
appeal  must  be  made  to  some  one  who  wouldn't  inter- 
pret its  truth. 

Pennypacker!  £gaii's  start  of  triumph  made  the 
manicure  come  within  an  ace  of  committing  mayhem 
with  the  cutide-sossors. 

Mr.  Pexmypacker  had  shown  great  interest  in  the 
▼enture,  and  he  had  spoken  vaguely  of  selling  other 
securities  in  order  to  participate  in  Transport  profits. 
Pennypacker  evidently  held  one  end  of  the  line  of  least 
resistance,  and  £gan  decided  to  foUow  it  forthwith. 
But  Mr.  Pennypacker,  beginning  at  the  other  aid,  fol- 
lowed it  first. 

It  was  at  a  particularly  inauspicious  hour  that  Mr. 
Pennypacker  knocked  on  the  door  of  £gan*s  room. 
£gan  had  just  finished  arraying  himself  in  the  newest 
of  evening  raiment,  the  most  exclusive  of  shirtings,  the 
most  silken  of  three-dollar  hose.  He  had  tied  four  ties 
once  apiece,  and  one  tie  four  times,  and  he  wasn't  yet. 
imtiirfii*d  with  the  result.  Nor  was  he  reconciled  to  the 
iiills  vhidi  would  presently  flutter  upon  him  for  aU  this 


EGAN-  ler 

glorv.  **  Stin,*'  he  said  to  himself.  "  A  man  with  my 
social  position  to  keep  up  — ^ 

At  this  jonctore,  Mr.  Fennjpacker  had  knocked 
daintilv, 

'^Come!" 

"  Ah ! "  said  Mr.  Pamjpadcer.  "  An  orgy  of  self- 
beaatification."  And  giTen  his  loud,  unemj^iasiTCd 
lau^ 

£gan  was  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  to  set  the  trap. 

**  Anything  I  can  do  for  vou  ?  " 

**  Why,  I  don't  know.  Don't  mind  me ;  go  on  with 
your  dressing.  Gone  any  further  with  your  develop- 
ment ?  " 

^  Yes." 

ilr.  Pennjpacker  settled  himsdif  comfortably.  "  Pre 
been  thinking  it  over,  Mr.  £gui,  and  IVe  pretty  nearly 
made  up  my  mind  to  make  you  a  proposition.  Of 
course,  statistics  show  that  in  this  state  alone,  the  new 
incorporations  per  day  are  only  two  and  a  third  times 
the  bankrupticies  and  dissolutions.  But  Fm  almost 
settled  on  going  behind  of  the  statistics  for  once.  In 
other  words,  I'd.  like  to  hare  a  chance  to  be  in  with  ycra, 
in  a  small  way,  on  your  company.  IVe  read  all  the 
last  issues  of  Aerial  Age,  Air  Pamer,  Aircraft  Journal, 
and  Flt/ing,  and  Fm  willing  to  take  a  small  gamUe,  if 
you  want  me.  If  you  can  see  your  way  dear  to  meet 
me  half  way.** 

Egan  wheeled  from  the  mirror,  a  fresh  tie  in  his  hand. 
He  was  profoundly  impressed,  and  delighted,  but  he 
had  an  appointment  which  was  sacred.  "  Tliat  sounds 
good  to  me.  But  couldn't  you  wait  'til  tomorrow? 
IVe  got  to  go  out  as  soon  as  I  — " 


168  EGAN 

"Oh,  no  hurry,  no  hurry.  I  just  thought  ...  If 
you  get  in  before  midnight,  you  might  drop  in  to  see 
me.     I'm  a  night-owl." 

"  I  will."  He  managed  to  get  the  exact  twist  he  de- 
sired. "  Any  idea  how  much  you'd  like  to  come  in 
for?  "     His  voice  was  ever  so  little  unsteady. 

"  Well,  I've  got  some  securities.  I'd  like  to  have  you 
take  some  of  'em  off  my  hands.  And  some  cash,  too,  of 
course." 

"  Any  idea  what  the  securities  are  worth  ?  " 

Mr.  Pennypacker  nodded.  "  The  par  value  is  six- 
teen thousand  dollars." 

Egan  rigorously  restrained  himself.     *' Bonds.''" 

"  No ;  industrials.     Common  stock." 

"  Easily  marketable?  " 

"  Well,  they're  not  quoted  on  any  Exchange,  but  I 
guess  they'll  be  worth  par  to  you.     I'm  sure  they  will." 

Egan  glanced  at  his  watch.  He  should  have  dearly 
loved  to  hear  this  story  out,  but  the  story  could  wait, 
and  his  appointment  couldn't. 

*'  What  did  you  want  to  do,  Mr.  Pennypacker  — 
trade  even  ?  " 

«  That's  what  I'd  thought." 

Egan  was  uplifted,  and  almost  immediately  let  down 
again.  Just  as  he  had  told  Johnny  Jones,  no  solicitor 
was  necessary.  Here  was  a  statistician,  a  man  of  snail- 
like slowness  and  accuracy,  coming  of  his  own  accord 
to  bid  for  stock,  after  hearing  merely  an  outline  of  the 
Transport  Company.     The  idea  had  sold  itself. 

**  That  sounds  reasonable.  .  .  .  You'll  excuse  me  for 
running,  won't  you?  But  I  like  your  suggestion,  and 
111  certainly  be  glad  to  talk  it  over  with  you." 


EGAN  169 

**  Oh,  no  hurry,  no  hurry."     He  laughed  stridently. 

Egan  was  visited  by  a  timely  inspiration.  "  Entirely 
separate  from  any  trade  deal,  Mr.  Pennypacker  —  if 
you'd  care  to  make  any  subscription  in  cash,  there'd  be 
a  stock  bonus  of,  say,  twenty-five  per  cent.  Just  think 
that  over,  too,  while  you're  about  it,  and  — " 

Mr.  Pennypacker  looked  up  ingenuously. 

"  Well,  I  could  make  you  some  sort  of  offer  there, 
too,  I  guess.  Not  any  big  amount.  But  the  average 
income  in  this  state,  according  to  the  last  tax  census, 
was  about  thirteen  hundred  dollars  — "  He  laughed 
shyly.  "  I'm  making  considerable  above  the  average, 
anyway.  And  I've  saved  some.  You  drop  in  and  see 
me,  and  we'll  talk  it  over.  .  .  .  Going  to  dance?  " 

*'  Yes."     Egan  found  his  stick  and  gloves. 

"  Nice,  cool  night  for  it.  Coolest  for  this  date  in 
nineteen  years.  Well,  be  sure  and  look  in  on  me.  I'd 
kind  of  like  to  get  it  settled." 

"  Yes,  so  would  I,"  responded  Egan  cordially. 

Within  the  hour,  Egan  had  committed  the  next  of  his 
greatest  indiscretions  and,  to  put  the  matter  plainly, 
it  was  due  to  wrath  and  geography  combined.  It  wasn't 
a  question  of  the  proverbial  inch,  nor  yet  of  the  pro- 
verbial mile,  but  if  Mary  Kent  had  lived,  say,  half  a 
dozen  blocks  further  distant  from  the  corner  of  Main 
Street  and  Central  Avenue,  or  if  Egan's  resentment 
hadn't  carried  him  downtown  from  Mary's  house  with 
the  speed  of  a  motion-picture  pedestrian,  this  particu- 
lar indiscretion  might  have  been  averted.  But  the  lay 
of  the  land  was  permanent,  and  Egan  hadn't  even  be- 
gun to  slow  down  when  he  reached  the  corner. 


170  EGAN 

He  had  been  on  the  Kent  lawn  not  more  than  ten 
minutes  when  wrath  was  engendered  in  him,  and  not 
more  than  fifteen  minutes  before  he  surreptitiously  de- 
parted ;  and  inasmuch  as  the  lawn  under  the  trees  pro- 
Tided  a  low  visibilitj,  his  preparations  of  the  afternoon 
and  evening  proved  to  be  quite  as  futile  as  the  efforts 
of  the  darkev  who  ran  a  furlong  in  order  to  acquire 
impetus  enough  to  jump  a  two-foot  fence.  No  one, 
not  even  Mary,  had  appreciated  his  expensive  gran- 
deur, or  comprehended  it. 

The  arrangement  had  been  for  nine  young  people  to 
meet  at  the  Kents*,  and  to  go  out  to  the  Country  Club 
by  motor.  Egan,  pardoned  by  telephone,  was  the  odd 
man;  but  at  the  time  of  his  arrival,  he  found  himself, 
pending  the  appearance  of  the  last  girl,  one  of  two 
odd  men,  and  the  other  one  was  Henry  Luke. 

Henry's  father  was  president  of  the  Citizens  Trust 
Company,  and  Henry,  who  was  no  older  than  Egan, 
had  done  what  everybody  reads  about,  and  few  accom- 
plish; he  had  gambled  in  Wall  Street  in  1916  and  1917 
and  made  money ;  and  stayed  out  of  it  in  1918  and  saved 
all  he  had  made. 

He  had  always  been  a  good  and  pompous  friend  to 
Egan;  and  except  for  his  habit  of  extremely  plain 
speech,  Egan  liked  him  well  enough  to  endure  him  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour. 

"Did  you  walk  over,  Bronson?  Pretty  hot,  wasn't 
it?  I'd  have  picked  you  up  on  the  way  if  you'd  tele- 
phoned me." 

Egan's  supersensitive  ear  caught  a  patronizing  note 
which  wasn't  there. 

**  Oh,  only  four  blocks,  Henry." 


EGAN  m 

"  I  know,  but  upliill,  on  a  night  like  this  — " 

"  I  hardly  think  I'll  walk  up  it  many  more  times." 
Egan  here  made  one  of  those  rash  declarations  which 
every  one  alive  has  sometimes  made,  and  seldom,  had 
such  reason  to  regret  afterwards.  It  was  purely  spon- 
taneous, perfectly  harmless,  and  a  man  less  literal  than 
Henry  Luke,  who  wore  tortoise-rimmed  spectacles  and 
had  no  sense  of  humour,  would  have  taken  it  at  the 
proper  discount.  "  I'm  sort  of  thinking  of  getting  a 
car  myself." 

Henry  peered  at  him  through  the  dusk.  "  What 
kind?     A  fliwer?  *' 

Egan  snorted.  The  idea  of  being  patronized  was 
sufficiently  repulsive  in  itself,  but  it  was  doubly  accen- 
tuated in  the  current  instance.  Partly  because  Henry 
was  Henry,  and  partly  because  Henry  had  been  lucky 
in  Wall  Street,  Besides,  Egan  was  counting  his  chick- 
ens before  he  had  cornered  the  hen.  He  was  banking 
solidly  on  Mr.  Pennypacker  to  come  through.  More 
than  that,  he  had  really  told  himself,  a  day  or  two  ago, 
that  he  wished  he  had  his  old  red  roadster  back.  So- 
cially, and  in  the  solicitation  of  business,  it  would  have 
been  a  decided  asset.'  And  he  had  really  wondered  how 
soon  he  could  have  a  car.     A  fliv^'er. 

But  after  Henry's  innocent  question  — 

"  Hardly ! "  said  Egan.  "  I*ve  got  my  eye  on  a 
sportster  now." 

Henry  looked  at  him  queerly.  He  knew  from  old 
experience  that  Egan  would  defend  his  wildest  state- 
ment to  the  last  ditch.  Henry  laughed.  It  wasn't  a 
cruel  laugh,  or  even  a  cynical  laugh,  but  one  of  pure 
amusement. 


172  EGAN 

"  Don't  you  be  an  ass,  Bronson." 

"What?"  said  Egan. 

Henry  glanced  behind  him  to  make  sure  that  they 
were  out  of  earshot  from  the  girls.  He  was  a  trifle 
startled  by  the  response  to  his  opening  gun,  but  when 
Henry  fired,  he  generally  fired  for  effect. 

"  Ayop,"  said  Henry,  as  an  affirmative.  "  That's 
what  I  said.     Don't  be  a  silly  ass." 

Egan  had  no  vocabulary  to  spare  at  that  moment. 
He  could  only  yammer. 

"  That's  what  they're  all  saying,"  said  Henry,  with 
the  air  of  a  conscientious  reporter.  "  Everybody's 
saying  you're  talking  a  lot  about  what  you're  going  to 
do,  and  then  not  doing  it.  I  thought  I  owed  it  to  you 
to  tell  you,  Bronson.  If  I  didn't,  somebody  else  might 
tell  you  sometime  not  in  the  friendly  spirit  /  tell  you. 
I've  known  you  a  long  time,  and  I  know  you're  a  dam' 
fine  fellow,  and  all  that,  but  I  don't  believe  you  want 
the  whole  town  to  go  around  saying  you're  bluffing  all 
the  time,  and  yet  that's  exactly  what  they're  doing, 
Bronson.  And  about  this  car  thing,  there  doesn't  need 
to  be  any  bluffing  between  you  and  me.  You  can  try 
bluffing  somebody  else  if  you  think  you  want  to,  but 
you  and  I  know  each  other  too  well  for  you  ever  to  think 
of  putting  anything  like  that  over  on  ttz^."  He  put  out 
a  hand  which  he  meant  to  be  fatherly.  "  It's  for  your 
own  good,  Bronson,"  he  said.  "You  just  gotta  stop 
this  bluffing.  Don't  forget  I'm  a  director  of  the  Citi- 
zens Trust  Company  —  and  I  know  you  can't  afford  it. 
The  first  thing  you  know,  everybody  in  this  town  will 
be  saying  you're  nothing  but  an  old  blowhard." 


EGAN  173 

"  Blowhard !  "  said  Egan,  under  his  breath.  He  was 
still  knocked  endwise  by  the  unexpected  assault. 

"  Yes,"  said  Henry,  peering  down  at  Egan  from  the 
height  of  six  feet  five.  "An  old  blowhard.  That's 
what  they're  just  getting  ready  to  say  about  you. 
This  airplane  scheme  of  yours  is  so  darn'  big,  it's  only 
funny  to  hear  you  talk  about  it.  But  when  it's  only  a 
car  — " 

A  wave  of  superheated  indignation  passed  over  Egan,. 
and  set  his  brain  afire.  His  throat  was  arid.  The 
worst  of  it,  the  sickening  part  of  it,  was  that  Henry 
Luke  had  no  imagination.  When  he  quoted,  he  quoted 
verbatim.  When  he  merely  reported,  he  reported  faith- 
fuUy. 

*'  Blowhard ! "  said  Egan,  with  almost  an  interroga- 
tion in  it. 

"  I'll  tell  you  who's  as  much  as  said  so.  First,  there 
was  — " 

"Don't!" 

"  Well,"  said  Henry,  **  you  see  what  I  mean,  don't 
you  ?     So  when  you  talk  about  getting  a  car  — " 

Egan  was  caught  in  a  flood  of  furious  shame  which 
he  couldn't  resist,  and  it  was  multiplied  a  thousandfold 
by  the  gruesome  contrast  between  the  effect  he  had 
intended  to  produce  on  Henry,  and  the  effect  that 
Henry  had  succeeded  in  producing  on  him.  He  turned 
aside  from  Henry,  and  found  himself  facing,  at  an  in- 
terval of  only  a  few  yards,  that  group  of  half  a  dozen 
of  his  old  friends.  He  dared  not  attempt  to  guess  how 
many  of  them  shared  in  this  awful  characterization  of 
himself.     But  he  knew  that  he  couldn't  go  through  this 


174  EGAN 

evening  as  he  had  planned.  Nor  any  other  evening, 
until  he  had  erased  the  characterization.  He  also  knew 
that  above  all  things,  he  mustn't  obey  the  driving  im- 
pulse to  fall  upon  Henry  tooth  and  nail,  and  wipe  out 
the  base  insinuation.  A  weaker  man  might  have 
laughed  it  off;  but  Egan  had  been  hurt  to  the  last,  in- 
finitely tender  tissue  of  his  pride.  He  had  never  been 
so  hurt  in  all  his  life.  His  brain  almost  ceased  func- 
tioning.    He  saw  blood-red.     Blowhard! 

His  Irish  wrath,  whipped  up  in  an  instant,  assumed 
the  absolute  command  over  him. 

"  Here !  Bronson !  Come  back  here !  Hey !  Lis- 
ten a  minute !  " 

Egan  had  disappeared  into  the  dusk.  A  few  min- 
utes later,  when  the  last  girl  arrived,  no  one  could  lo- 
cate him.  Presently,  after  allowing  him  a  reasonable 
law,  the  double  quartet  got  itself  in  motion.  The  mys- 
tery of  his  disappearance  remained,  however,  a  topic  of 
discussion  for  the  next  hour.  Henry  Luke,  truthful  to 
the  bitter  end,  said  he  guessed  that  Bronson  had  sud- 
denly been  taken  sick  or  something.  They  telephoned 
from  the  Country  Club,  but  Miss  McCain,  irked  by  the 
knowledge  that  it  was  from  the  Country  Club  that  they 
telephoned,  answered  coldly  that  he  hadn't  come  in. 

Then  all  the  others  were  uncomfortable,  and  Henry 
Luke  felt  very  sheepish. 

In  the  meantime,  billow  after  billow  of  degradation 
had  rocked  over  Egan's  head.  He  had  no  sequence  of 
thought;  his  brain  was  merely  a  receptacle  for  a  vast 
mass  of  hot  and  quivering  anger.  Blowhard!  And 
for  this  he  had  purposed  to  give  to  the  town  of  his  na- 


EGAN  176 

tivity  the  glory  of  his  initiative,  and  genius!  So  it 
was  common  gossip,  then.  People  talked  about  it. 
What  people?  What  right  had  Henry  Luke  or  any 
one  else  in  the  whole  wide  world  to  gossip  about  him, 
and  what  he  would  do  or  wouldn't  do,  and  what  he  could 
afford  ? 

He  was  hardly  aware  that  his  wrath  had  carried  him 
to  the  corner  of  Main  Street  and  Central  Avenue;  he 
hadn't  gone  there  of  his  own  accord,  but  unwittingly, 
instinctively.  He  had  followed  the  trail  of  memory 
which  led  him  to  a  huge  show  window,  wherein  stood  a 
low,  shining,  battleship-grey  roadster,  magnificent  with 
upholstery  and  instruments.  It  wasn't  worth  a  third 
of  what  his  old  red  runabout  had  cost,  but  it  was  a  car, 
and  not  a  flivver.     He  was  swept  inward. 

"  How  much  that?  "  he  demanded. 

The  proprietor  stared  at  Egan,  stared  at  the  car, 
and  stared  at  Egan  again.  Egan  was  distinctly  not  in 
the  spirit  of  a  purchaser.  His  aspect  indicated  that  he 
needed  a  sedative  more  than  an  automobile ;  but  his  voice 
was  peremptory  enough  to  bring  a  respectful  answer. 

"  That?  Why,  that's  been  used  for  a  demonstrator. 
It's  gone  about  eleven  hundred  miles.  The  price  of  a 
new  one,  f.o.b.  Detroit,  is  fourteen  sixty,  and  I  — " 

"  How  much  that?  "  Egan  had  gestured  so  vehe- 
mently that  the  agent  side-stepped. 

"  Why,  I  guess  we  could  let  you  have  that,  if  you 
want  it,  for  eleven  hundred  flat.     I  — " 

"  When?  "  Even  in  his  headlong  momentum,  Egan 
had  time  to  remember  the  support  that  was  to  come 
from  Mr.  Pennypacker. 

"  Why  —  why,  when  did  you  want  it,  sir?  " 


176  EGAN 

"  When  can  I  have  it?  " 

The  agent  blinked,  and  laughed  a  little.  "  Why,  if 
you  can  pay  for  it,  you  can  have  it  as  soon  as  you  can 
take  it  out  of  the  window.     I  — " 

"  Take  a  check  ?  .  .  .  My  name's  Bronson  Egan. 
Father's  James  Egan,  of  .  .  ." 

The  agent  reacted  favourably. 

"  Oh,  certainly.  .  .  .  Your  check's  good  here. 
Now—" 

Egan  was  already  flinging  riotous  blobs  of  ink  from 
his  fountain  pen. 

«  I'll  drive  it  out." 

The  agent  gulped,  but  the  check  looked  good.  The 
name  of  Egan  was  better  yet.  He  turned,  and  bel- 
lowed to  the  supply  department  in  the  rear. 

"  Hi,  Jake !  Come  help  roll  out  this  Model  G. 
Guy's  in  a  big  hurry ! "  He  turned  back.  "  Under- 
stand how  she  drives,  do  you?  She's  got  plenty  of  oil 
in  her,  and  ten  gallons  of  gas  — " 

Egan,  on  the  sidewalk,  had  already  begun  to  cool, 
while  the  engine  was  warming  up.  Wrath  had  guided 
him  to  a  great  folly,  and  geography  was  too  late  to 
help.  He  climbed  into  the  little  roadster,  and  gingerly 
tested  the  gears. 

"  I  guess  you  can  manage  her  all  right,  Mr.  Egan. 
Thank  you  very,  very  much.  Any  time  we  can  do  any- 
thing for  you  — " 

"  All  right."  Egan  let  in  the  clutch.  At  the  next 
corner,  he  drew  a  long  and  tremulous  breath ;  slackened 
speed ;  almost  stopped.  A  brief  spasm  of  reason  shook 
him.  He  could  still  return,  and  probably  get  his  check 
back.     It  would  be  embarrassing ;  but  — 


EGAN  177 

"  Blowhard !  "  he  said  unexpectedly,  aloud. 

The  epithet  brought  colourful  recollection  to  him. 
Egan  swallowed  hard.  His  eyes  felt  strained  and  hot. 
Determinedly,  he  stepped  on  the  accelerator.  Out  Cen- 
tral Avenue  towards  the  Country  Club  —  and  Henry 
Luke  —  and  all  the  others. 

"  To  hell  with  'em !  "  said  Egan  passionately.  "  To 
hell  with  'em !  " 

Out  of  deference  to  tomorrow's  pulpits,  the  dance  had 
ended  at  five  minutes  of  twelve.  Henry  Luke,  after  the 
others  had  finished  their  superficial  examination  and 
equally  superficial  compliments,  had  drawn  Egan  aside. 

"  Bronson,"  he  said  gravely,  "  I'm  sorry  if  I  made 
you  put  your  foot  in  the  bucket.  I'm  afraid  you're 
in  wrong.  But  I  want  to  assure  you  right  here  and 
right  now  I  disclaim  all  responsibility.  All  I  told  you 
was  — " 

"  The  only  trouble  with  you  —  Hank,'*  said  Egan, 
using  the  nickname  which  Henry  loathed  beyond  de- 
scription. "  The  only  trouble  with  you.  Hank  —  you 
talk  too  much." 

He  drove  home  the  prettiest  girl  he  could  find,  and 
detach.  And  he  flirted  with  her  outrageously.  He 
took  the  little  car  up  Vine  Street,  and  ran  it  into  the 
old  barn.  He  went  upstairs,  and  knocked  softly  at  the 
door  of  Mr.  Pennypacker's  room.  Mr.  Pennypacker 
was  sitting  up  for  him.  Mr.  Pennypacker  had  got  out 
his  securities,  and  had  them  on  his  table. 

"  Whose  car  was  that  I  heard  come  in  here.''  " 

Egan  gulped.     "  Mine." 

"Ohl    .    .    .    Something  new?     Oh!   .    .    .    indeed. 


178  EGAN 

Well,  there's  one  to  every  seven  and  a  half  people  in  this 
state  alone.  ...  So  you  bought  yourself  a  car,  eh?  " 
Mr.  Pennypacker  smiled  lugubriously.  "  Well,  that's 
fine,  that's  fine.  Enjoy  your  dance?  Good.  I'm  glad 
to  hear  it.  .  .  .  Now  about  this  trade  of  ours.  If  you 
bought  yourself  a  new  car,  I  guess  you're  in  a  position 
to  trade,  all  right." 

"  Any  water  in  here?  " 

"  Over  in  the  corner.  Go  right  ahead ;  help  your- 
self." Mr.  Pennypacker  sat  back  and  watched  him. 
"  Now  if  you're  ready  to  talk  — " 

Egan's  eyes  were  caught  by  something  on  the  table. 
He  came  over  swiftly. 

"What's  this?" 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  trade  with.  Every  nickel  I 
had  went  into  it.  So  with  you  buying  cars  and  every- 
thing, I  thought  the  least  you  could  do  would  be  to 
trade  even,  and  give  me  a  chance  on  your  next  scheme 
— ^isn't  it?  Sixteen  thousand  in  your  airplane  scheme 
against  sixteen  thousand  Egan  common?  "  Mr.  Pen- 
nypacker's  gaze  was  devastating.  "  I  thought  that's 
only  fair,  sort  of.  Seeing  it's  all  in  your  family.  You 
don't  need  to  look  so  sick  about  it.  ...  I  lost  my  pile 
in  your  father's  outfit,  didn't  I?  I  said  it  was  an  in- 
dustrial stock.  I  said  I  guess  they'd  be  worth  par  to 
you.  Ain't  your  reputation  worth  an  even  trade?  All 
I  ask  is  a  trade  —  share  for  share.  Just  so  I  have  a 
chance  on  your  new  scheme  —  to  make  up  for  going 
broke  on  the  old  one.  Since  it's  all  in  the  family.  And 
—  and  just  to  show  I'm  not  a  hog,  I'll  give  you,  in  cash, 
to  boot  —  I'll  give  you  one-third  of  all  I've  got  in  the 


EGAN  ^  179 

bank.  Then  I'll  have  some  sort  of  run  for  my  money. 
You're  bright ;  I  might  make  — " 

Egan  was  breathing  to  the  bottom  of  his  lungs. 

"  How  much  —  money  ?  " 

"  That  would  be  —  let  me  see  —  that  would  be  —  one 
hundred  and  eighty-six  dollars  and  forty  two  cents. 
But  seeing  it's  all  in  the  family,  Mr.  Egan,  and  .  .  . 
Here !     Where  you  going?  " 

Egan  stopped  short. 

«  Why  ...  I  don't  know." 

"  Don't  know?  "  Mr.  Pennypacker  emitted  his 
laugh  of  punctuation. 

"  No.     I  — " 

"  Well,  can't  you  say  something?  Here  I've  sat  up 
and  waited.  .  .  .  Can't  you  say  whether  it's  a  trade  or 
not,  or  whether  you'll  think  it  over,  or  something?  " 

"  Yes  ...  of  course,"  said  Egan  apathetically.  "  I 
.  .  .  I'll  think  it  over." 


XIV 

IN  the  morning,  Egan  was  doubly  penitent,  and 
doubly  demoralized.  His  utter  surrender  to  the 
resentment  arising  out  of  Henry  Luke*s  revela- 
tion afflicted  him,  when  viewed  in  perspective,  with  cold 
shivers.  A  residue  of  anger  still  remained  to  him,  but  it 
was  anger  directed  chiefly  towards  himself. 

Half -dressed,  he  eat  soberly  considering  the  potential 
results  of  his  mad  impetuosity.  What  had  he  accom- 
plished by  it?  Why,  he  hadn't  even  convinced  Henrj^ 
Luke ! 

Presumably,  he  could  come  to  terms  with  the  agent,  if 
he  wanted  to,  but  even  so,  he  couldn't  come  to  terms 
with  himself.  But  was  it  the  right  thing  to  recant, 
now?  Was  it  advisable  for  him,  after  one  childish 
blunder,  to  prove  Henry  Luke's  case  for  him  by  going 
around  and  selling  that  car  back  to  the  agency? 
Wouldn't  that  fan  a  greater  flame  of  gossip  than 
ever? 

Granted  that  Henry  had  goaded  him  into  blind  rash- 
ness; that  was  simply  an  explanation,  and  not  an  ex- 
cuse. 

To  think  that  he,  who  had  regarded  himself  as  so 
capable  and  so  clever,  had  stultified  himself  like  that! 
The  mere  visualization  of  that  poor  little  car  afflicted 
him  with  nausea.  What  would  Martha  Henderson 
think  of  it,  if  she  knew?  What  would  Judge  Perkins 
say,  when  he  did  know? 

As  he  tardily  continued  dressing,  he  realized  that  he 

180 


EGAN.  181 

had  a  headache.     He  also  realized  that  he  didn't  want 
to  face  Mr.  Pennypacker  across  the  breakfast  table. 

Out  to  the  open  air  went  Egan,  and  like  the  morning 
schoolboy,  crept  at  snail's-pace  unwillingly  towards  the 
comer  of  Main  Street  and  Central  Avenue.  It  never 
occurred  to  him  to  drive  downtown;  he  walked.  He 
had  no  predetermined  course  of  action ;  he  was  turning 
over  in  his  mind  a  number  of  unsettled  possibilities.  He 
wondered  if  he  could  save  his  face  by  agreeing,  perhaps, 
to  run  the  car  for  a  thousand  mUes,  and  then  turn  it 
in  at  a  fixed  price. 

For  a  single  instant  he  reflected  upon  the  desirability 
of  getting  out  of  the  transaction  altogether.  He  might 
force  the  issue  by  stopping  payment  on  the  check.  But 
he  dismissed  the  conception  as  another  folly.  He  had 
discounted  his  intelligence  to  a  sufficient  extent  already. 
The  sale  had  been  made  in  good  faith,  and  the  least  he 
could  do  was  to  play  fair. 

He  was  within  a  few  yards  of  the  fatal  corner  before 
he  realized  that  it  was  Sunday,  and  that  the  agency 
would  be  closed. 

He  went  slowly  over  to  the  Plainfield  House,  and  as 
he  breakfasted,  he  could  see  Martha  Henderson's  face 
when  she  comprehended  how  badly  he  had  used  her  coun- 
sel. He  could  fancy  how,  if  the  news  got  out  in  an  un- 
favourable setting,  it  would  seriously  handicap  him  as  a 
promoter.  No  one  would  assume  that  any  stability  of 
character  was  in  him.  He  told  himself  fiercely  that 
never  again  would  he  boast  about  what  he  was  going  to 
do  —  no,  not  even  after  he  had  done  it !  But  the  pres- 
ent contingency  was  more  important  than  his  future 


18«  EGAN 

ethics.  To  keep  the  car  would  be  to  place  himself,  within 
a  few  days,  in  the  position  of  an  insolvent ;  to  return  it, 
would  be  to  bring  down  ridicule  upon  his  aching  head.  In 
either  case,  he  was  fair  prey  to  criticism,  and  discredit. 

His  appetite  failed  him.  He  paid  his  reckoning,  and 
went  out  again.  He  didn't  want  to  go  home,  for  he 
should  find  Perkins,  and  Adams  —  and  Pennypacker ! 
—  there.  He  didn't  want  to  walk,  for  fear  of  meeting 
some  one  he  knew. 

Aimlessly,  he  wandered  through  the  silent  streets  of 
the  business  district,  until,  with  all  the  sentiments  of  a 
criminal  returning  to  the  scene  of  the  crime,  he  was  im- 
pelled to  turn  his  footsteps  towards  Vine  Street. 

From  the  lawn,  Mary  hailed  him  cheerfully. 

"  Hello,  J.  Pierpont !  " 

"  Hello,"  said  Egan. 

"  When  are  you  going  to  ask  me  out  for  a  ride .''  " 

Instinctively,  he  put  on  a  smile  of  gracious  ease. 
"  Any  time  you  say." 

"This  afternoon.?" 

"  Name  the  hour." 

«  Half-past  four." 

"  Right !  "  said  Egan.     "  I'll  come  for  you." 

And  went  on  home,  and  deliberately  took  the  little  car 
out  of  the  barn,  and  parked  it  at  the  curb. 

It  was  on  that  same  morning,  immediately  after  the 
breakfast  which  Egan  had  escaped,  that  Mr.  Ganzen- 
berry  cut  o£F  Adams'  retreat  before  he  could  leave  the 
dining-room. 

"  Come  upstairs ! "  he  said  in  an  undertone.  "  I've 
got  something  to  show  you." 


EGAN  18» 

Adams,  following  him,  and  not  being  gifted  with  pre- 
monition, was  bored.  They  went  into  the  artist's  room, 
where  Mr.  Ganzenberry  promptly  dived  into  a  huge 
portfolio. 

"  You're  such  a  good  art  critic,"  said  Mr.  Ganzen- 
berry, concealing  the  canvas  until  he  had  finished  his 
prehminary  address,  "  I  thought  I'd  ask  your  advice. 
You  see,  I  never  was  the  least  bit  —  commercial.  But 
I  hear  these  commercial  artists  .  .  .  well,  this  is  a  sort 
of  pot-boiler.  And  I  thought  as  long  as  you  know  so 
much  about  these  things,  you'd  tell  me  who'd  be  likely 
to  be  interested  in  it,  and  .  .  .  er  .  .  .  and  about  how 
much  I  ought  to  get  for  it."  He  turned  the  painting. 
"  It's  for  the  cover  of  a  magazine,"  he  said. 

Adams  looked  at  it,  and  then  looked  closer. 

"  That's  pretty  realistic,"  he  said. 

Mr.  Ganzenberry  giggled.     "  Well,  it  ought  to  be.*' 

Adams  looked  more  closely  yet.  "  Those  are  pretty 
nearly  regular  portraits." 

Mr.  Ganzenberry  bridled.  "  Well,  I  suppose  I  was 
some  influenced  .  .  ." 

"  But  that  wasn't  from  life.?  " 

"  Yes,  and  no.  It  ...  er  ...  it  made  an  impres- 
sion on  me  at  the  time.  I  didn't  intend  to  portray  the 
actual  faces  of  the  .  .  ,  er  .  .  .participants,  but  if 
some  resemblance  has  crept  it,  why  —  you  know  what 
they  say  about  the  artist's  memory." 

Adams  looked  at  him  keenly. 

"  Something  like  this  actually  happened,  did  it.f"  " 

**  Oh,  yes.     But  that's  neither  here  nor  there." 

**  When  was  it,  Mr.  Ganzenberry.''  " 

**  Saturday  week." 


184.  EGAN 

**  And  in  the  reception  room.  Gracious !  How  well 
you've  done  it." 

Mr.  Ganzenberry  blushed.  "  If  you  think  the  faces 
are  too  recognizable,  I'd  better  paint  over  — " 

"  Oh,  no.  Not  at  all."  Adams  stepped  back  for  a 
clearer  view.  "  To  you  and  me,  of  course  —  under- 
standing art  as  we  do  .  .  .  How  much  did  you  expect 
to  get  for  it,  Mr.  Ganzenberry  ?  " 

**  Why,  I  wondered  ...  I  think  it's  worth  fifty  dol- 
lars, don't  you.''  " 

"Y-e-e-s.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  give  you 
fifty  dollars  for  it  myself." 

The  artist  was  joy-smitten,  but  doubtful.  "Why, 
whatever  could  you  do  with  it.?  " 

"  Oh,  I  can  use  it  in  my  business,"  said  Adams,  cas- 
ually. "  It  has  a  universal  appeal  —  yes,  I  could  use 
it- myself  very  nicely  at  that  price." 

"  Oh,  but  in  that  case,  I  had  better  change  the  faces  a 
little  more.     I  — " 

Adams  gently  relieved  him  of  the  canvas.  *'  Non- 
sense. Nobody  but  you  and  I'd  ever  know  the  inside 
of  it.  And  /  wouldn't  have,  if  any  one  but  you'd  done 
it.  You  and  I  see  deeper  into  these  things.  I  don't 
believe  any  one  else  would  ever  stop  to  think  whether 
these  people  in  the  painting  look  like  actual  folks,  or 
not.     They'd  take  'em  for  figures  —  not  folks." 

"  That's  so.  Of  course,  I'd  hate  to  have  anybody 
think.  .  .  .  Are  you  sure  it  isn't  too  true  to  life  ?  " 

"  Positively,"  said  Adams,  with  the  picture  under  his 
arm.  "  I'll  bring  you  down  a  check  in  two  minutes. 
And  a  bill  of  sale  to  sign  —  so  it'll  be  all  regular." 


XV 

IT  was  on  a  baking  afternoon  in  August,  gratefully- 
near  dusk,  when  Martha  Henderson,  strolling 
leisurely  down  the  shady  side  of  Main  Street,  met 
Egan  to  face  to  face. 

"  Why,  Lieutenant  Egan ! "  she  said.  Her  eyes, 
wandering  to  his  cravat,  stayed  there,  fixed  on  the  gold 
safety-pin  he  was  wearing. 

"  Miss  Henderson !  Of  all  things !  When  did  you 
get  here.''  " 

*'  Yesterday,  for  another  week  with  Mary.  How's 
everything.''  " 

"  Everything?  That's  a  good  deal  to  answer.  But 
most  things  are  fine." 

"  How's  the  express  company.''  " 

"  Beautiful,  thank  you.  I'm  more  convinced  than 
ever  it  was  the  right  thing  to  do." 

"I  told  you  so,  didn't  I.?" 

**  I  know  you  did.  And  I've  often  wished  you  could 
have  a  share  in  it  yourself." 

"  Oh,  I'd  love  to !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  And  if  I  were  a 
man  — " 

"  You'd  want  to  help  run  it,"  he  finished  for  her. 
"  I  know.     Well,  it's  a  fascinating  scheme." 

"  You're  getting  plenty  of  people  to  subscribe  for 
stock.?" 

"  Well,  not  as  many   as  I'd  like,  of  course."     He 

didn't  think  it  necessary  to  tell  her  that  he  was  strug- 

185 


186  EGAN 

gling  desperately  to  dispose  of  a  few  thousand  dollars* 
worth  in  advance,  so  as  to  keep  his  head  above  water.    - 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said,  reflectively,  "  if  my  father 
wouldn't  be  interested  in  a  plan  like  that.  He's  only  a 
boy,  anyway.  I've  never  thought  of  mentioning  it  to 
him.     I  wonder  why  I  don't  speak  to  him  about  it." 

Egan  winced.  "  Do  you  want  to  do  me  a  very  par- 
ticular favour,  Miss  Henderson?  " 

«  Of  course  I  do." 

"  Then  promise  me  that  you  won't  ever  breathe  a  sin- 
gle word  of  it  to  your  father." 
.   Her  eyebrows  lifted.     *'  Why,  how  extraordinary !  " 

"  No,  it  isn't,  really.  I  just  don't  want  you  to.  It's 
ever  so  good  of  you  to  think  of  it,  but  — " 

**  Certainly  I  won't,  if  you  don't  want  me  to,"  she 
said.     Suddenly  her  eyes  widened. 

"  Oh !  Of  course,  I  know  that  he  and  your  father 
weren't  awfully  good  friends,  but  is  that  any  reason 
for  you  to  feel  the  same  way  —  is  it  ?  I'm  sure  you 
don't  feel  that  way  about  me,  do  you.''  I'm  not  of- 
fended, Mr.  Egan,  but  I'm  just  a  little  bit  hurt.  You've 
never  even  met  him,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I've  met  him ;  but  it  isn't  that,  honestly. 
I  —  well,  I  just  wish  you  wouldn't." 

"  Then  I  won't,"  she  said,  pleasantly  enough.  "  But 
I'm  certainly  going  to  bring  you  two  men  together  and 
let  you  find  out  for  yourself  what  he's  really  like.  .  .  . 
What  are  you  doing  now.?*  I'm  to  meet  Mary  at  the 
milliner's,  and  go  home  with  her.  Why  don't  you  come, 
too." 

"  Did  you  ride  down,  Miss  Henderson?  " 


(( 


No ;  we  walked." 


EGAN  187 

"  I  left  my  car  over  by  the  Lawyers  Building.  If 
you'll  wait  —  or  maybe  we'd  better  find  Mary  first. 
Where  is  this  milliner's.''  " 

The  milliner's  was  in  the  same  block,  and  Mary  was 
waiting  and  comforting  herself  by  her  reflections  in  a 
triplicate  mirror.  She  greeted  Egan  without  restraint, 
and  demanded  praise  for  her  new  hat  —  and  got  it. 

"  Now  what  ?  "  he  inquired. 

*'  Aren't  you  busy,  Bronson?  " 

"  Not  when  you're  around,"  he  said. 

It  appeared  that  Mary  was  bent  on  iced  refresh- 
ments, but  she  declined  Egan's  invitation  to  patronize 
the  tea-room  of  the  Plainfield  House.  "  We'U  all  go  up 
and  sit  on  the  lawn,"  she  declared,  "  and  have  things 
there.     Save  your  pennies  for  gasolene,  Bronson !  " 

Egan  flushed,  laughing.  "  I  never  could  under- 
stand," he  said,  "  how  people  fuss  so  about  gas.  /  al- 
ways said  that  if  a  man  has  to  bother  over  that  much, 
he  hadn't  ought  to  own  a  car,  anyway.  But  if  you're 
talking  about  depreciation  —  that's  diff'erent."  Nev- 
ertheless, as  he  hurried  over  for  the  runabout,  he 
thought  privately  that  Mary  might  have  been  a  little 
more  tactful. 

On  the  short  drive  to  the  Kents'  house  he  found  him- 
self marvelling  once  more  at  the  likeness  between  the  two 
girls.  They  had  the  identical  colouring;  the  features, 
almost,  of  twins;  they  were  even  dressed  similarly  in 
blue  georgette  crepe.  Mary  was  a  living  miniature  of 
Martha.  And  yet,  when  they  were  together,  he  invol- 
untarily made  comparisons.  It  was  hampering  to  him 
to  realize  that  the  comparisons  weren't  all  in  Mary's 
favour. 


188  EGAN 

"  Getting  lots  of  subscriptions,  Bronson  ?  "  asked 
Mary. 

Egan  nodded.  **  Some.  I*m  having  to  do  it  all 
•alone." 

Martha  looked  at  him  critically.  "  Aren't  you 
afraid  some  one  else  may  start  a  company  first.** 
They're  doing  it  all  over  the  rest  of  the  country." 

"  That's  exactly  what  I  am  afraid  of.  But  you  see, 
it's  such  a  mixed-up  sort  of  proposition.  Before  you 
get  your  ships,  you've  got  to  have  at  least  your  ter- 
minal fields.  I've  got  options,  but  they  don't  last  iof 
ever.  Then  you've  got  to  have  some  sort  of  hangars 
and  shops.  I've  got  estimates,  but  that's  all.  You've 
got  to  engage  pilots  and  mechanics.  You've  got  to 
have  supplies  and  spare  parts.  And  that  takes 
money." 

"  Very  much  money?  " 

Egan  was  serious,  but  not  solemn. 

"  A  good  deal.  Originally,  we  thought  we  could 
start  on  a  shoestring,  but  it  doesn't  look  as  though  that 
would  be  worth  while.  It  would  be  too  easy  for  some- 
body else  to  come  along  with  big  capital  and  swamp  us. 
We  want  six  ships  —  and  we'll  need  six  to  insure  a 
regular  schedule.  After  we  get  a  rep  for  reliability, 
we  won't  be  afraid  of  competition.  Well,  there's  no 
use  contracting  for  anything  until  the  money's  in  sight, 
and  if  we  wait  until  we've  got  money  it  may  take  six 
months  or  more  to  collect  the  equipment  and  lease  the 
fields  and  get  the  building  done.  So  you  see  it's  as  bad 
as  a  jig-saw  puzzle.  We  need  a  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars at  the  minimum." 

"  Wouldn't  it  have  been  better,"  asked  Mary,  "  for 

\ 


EGAN  189 

you  to  have  gone  and  got  a  position  with  one  of  the 
Eastern  companies  first,  and  learned  something  about 
it,  before  you  tried  to  go  into  it  as  a  business?  " 

"  I  want  to  stay  in  Plainfield,"  said  Egan,  and  Mary 
blushed. 

At  the  house,  Mary  vanished  in  search  of  a  maid  ta 
brew  what  she  called  the  "  cooling  drafts,"  and  Egan 
and  Martha  were  left  on  the  red-bricked  loggia. 

"  When  I  asked  you  how  *  everything '  is,"  she  said, 
guardedly,  "  I  meant  everything." 

Egan  somehow  didn't  care  to  talk  about  it. 

"  Aren't  you  and  Mary  good  enough  friends  so  you 
know  already .''  " 

"  Not  quite  good  enough  for  that,  I'm  afraid." 

"  StiU,  you're  supposed  to  have  intuitions  — " 

"  Oh,  yes.     I  have." 

"Useful  ones?" 

"  Perhaps."  She  looked  at  him  steadily.  "  I  don't 
believe  you're  entirely  out  of  it,  even  yet.  Not  if  you 
keep  on  fighting." 

"  I've  been  keeping  at  it  the  best  I  can." 

«  Sure?  " 

"  Perhaps  not  the  very  best  — " 

«  Oh !     That's  too  bad.     Why  not  ?  " 

He  was  impelled  to  blurt  out  the  truth  to  her,  for  she 
seemed  to  expect  it.     But  there  wouldn't  be  time. 

"  I've  been  too  confoundedly  quick,  I  guess." 

"  Still,  I  don't  believe  you've  done  anything  to  hurt 
your  —  your  case,  Mr.  Egan.  And  I'm  sure  I'd  know 
it  if  you  had." 

Egan  sat  motionless. 

"  Why  do  you  think  I've  still  got  a  chance?  " 


190  EGAN 

"  I  feel  it,  that's  aU." 

"  If  there  should  be,"  he  said,  "  my  promise  holds 
good.     And  I'm  still  hoping." 

"I  —  don't  think  I  know  what  promise  that  is." 

**  You  can  guess,"  he  said  evasively. 

"  Not  what  you  promised  me?  " 

*'  No.     What  I  promised  her.     You  know." 

"  No,  I  don't.  Truly.  Unless  it  was  to  wait  for 
her—" 

«  That's  it." 

"Oh!" 

"  The  strongest  principle  I  ever  had  was  not  ever  to 
break  a  promise,  even  to  myself,"  said  Egan.  "  That's 
the  way  I  was  brought  up.  I  don't  say  things  unless  I 
mean  them  literally." 

She  delayed  her  comment. 

"  Then  why  haven't  you  kept  your  agreement  with 
me,  Mr.  Egan.?  " 

His  first  impulse  was  to  protest  vigorously;  his  sec- 
ond made  him  feel  guilty. 

"  Did  I  ever  make  one  ?  " 

*'  Not  in  so  many  words,  perhaps.  What  were  all 
those  tilings  you  were  going  to  learn  for  me?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  have  got  a  temper." 

"  It  isn't  temper,  Mr.  Egan." 

"  What  do  you  think  it  is,  then?  " 

"  Aren't  you  confessing  it  to  yourself  this  minute  ?  " 

**  Are  you  thinking  about  the  .  .  .  that  car  of  mine? 
Did  any  one  tell  you  about  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  what's  been  printed  in  the  Times  about 
you.  It  would  hurt  you  horribly  if  anything  came  up 
to  spoil  your  plans  now,  wouldn't  it?     You're  so  .  .  . 


EGAN  191 

so  headstrong.     I  didn't  think  you'd  forget  so  soon." 

Egan  was  genuinely  abashed.  "  I  do  wish  you  lived 
here,"  he  said.  "  I  wish  I  could  see  you  oftener  ...  I 
care  more  about  having  you  think  I'm  .  .  .  the  deuce 
of  it  is  that  Mary  hates  to  have  me  pay  so  much  atten- 
tion to  you  when  you  are  here."  ^ 

"  P-pay  attention  to  jnel  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Egan.  He  entirely  forgot  that  any 
moment  Mary  might  emerge  from  the  house.  He  for- 
got his  hardiest  resolutions  regarding  her.  He  forgot 
everything  except  this  : —  that  in  place  of  his  old  attach- 
ment for  Mary,  in  place  of  the  emotions  which  for  four 
years  had  endured  within  him  by  reason  of  sheer  mo- 
mentum, there  had  arisen  now  a  sudden  new  series  of 
desires.  That  momentum  of  desire  for  Mary  had  run 
its  course ;  he  still  cared  deeply  for  her,  but  he  felt  that 
he  had  grown  beyond  her.  His  impetuosity  of  that 
first  evening  was  the  final  forward  movement.  Her 
character  engendered  great  aff*ection  in  him,  but  little 
respect,  little  admiration  —  especially  since  he  had 
come  to  know  Martha.  Martha  was  the  only  girl  who 
had  ever  taken  a  true  impersonal  interest  in  him  for  his 
own  sake.  The  only  one  to  whom  he  had  ever  wanted 
to  admit  his  faults.  The  only  one  whose  judgment  had 
ever  sunk  into  his  thoughts.  He  knew  that  his  recent 
escapade,  which  had  struck  Mary  as  delicious  comedy 
and  a  horse  on  Henry  Luke,  wouldn't  be  funny  to  Mar- 
tha. He  wished  that  he  had  time  to  tell  her  about  it, 
and  ask  her  what  to  do.  "  She  doesn't  like  it  at  all," 
he  said  lamely. 

"  But,  Mr.  Egan, —  doesn't  she  know  we're  only  good 
friends .''  " 


192  EGAN 

*'  I'm  not  sure  that  I  do  myself." 

She  looked  at  him  with  perplexity,  not  unmixed  with 
alann. 

"  I  hope  I  haven't  made  a  mistake  to  be  so  out- 
spoken, Mr.  Egan." 

"  No.  But  it  won't  do  any  harm  for  you  to  realize 
—  I  hope  it  won't  do  any  harm  for  you  to  realize  — 
that  if  it  weren't  for  that  promise  —  if  I  could  only 
come  to  see  you,  and  talk  to  you  — " 

His  intonation  betrayed  the  meaning  of  all  that  he 
didn't  say.  She  was  instantly  on  her  feet.  "  Oh,  Mr. 
Egan ! " 

Egan  rose  as  swiftly.  "  I'm  not  being  treacherous, 
Miss  Henderson,  or  even  unfair.  I  just  want  you  to 
know  that  if  I  can't  always  do  exactly  as  I'd  like  to,  it 
isn't  because  I  wouldn't  if  I  could." 

**  But  don't  you  see  that  when  you  talk  like  that, 
you're  making  it  impossible  for  me  to  stay  any  longer 
with  Mary.?  Don't  you  see  that?  I  can't  come  here 
any  more,  and  be  a  guest  in  her  house,  knowing  what 
you've  just  said.  It  wouldn't  be  right  for  any  of  us. 
Why  did  you  ever  go  and  — " 

«  All  I've  said  is  that  I  wish  I  — " 

**  Don't  say  any  more  —  please!  It's  bad  enough 
now." 

"  Bad?  " 

"  I  mean  .  .  .  oh,  Mr.  Egan !  Why  couldn't  you 
have  waited?  You  make  me  feel  like  a  spy  in  Mary's 
house ! "  Her  distress  was  increasing.  "  This  isn't 
being  friendly  to  her,  or  to  each  other,  and  I  wanted  so 
much  to  have  you  for  a  friend." 

"  I  intend  to  keep  my  promises  to  both  of  you.     I  did 


EGAN  193 

when  I  made  them.  But  is  there  anything  criminal  in 
my  ...  in  my  caring  something  for  you,  too.''  Is 
there  anything  wrong  in  wanting  to  see  you,  and  talk  to 
you.'*  When  you've  been  so  splendid  about  every- 
thing? "  He  made  a  great  effort  to  free  himself  of  the 
complications.  "  I  could  do  that,  even  if  I  were  .  .  . 
married.     Couldn't  I.?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Oh,  I'm  sorry  I  met  you  this 
afternoon  at  all !  I'm  sorry  I  came  to  see  Mary  again. 
If  I'd  dreamed  you  — "  Meeting  his  gaze  at  last,  she 
trembled.  "  I'll  have  to  go  back  home  tonight,  now. 
No,  not  tonight  —  it  might  make  Mary  suspect  —  but 
tomorrow,  tomorrow." 

**  Miss  Henderson  !     I  haven't  made  you  do  that !  " 

"  Yes,  you  have.  .  .  .  And  I'd  looked  forward  so  to 
seeing  you  again.  .  .  .  How  can  I  stay  here,  if  j  ust  my 
being  here  might  make  something  between  you  and 
Mary.'*  How  can  I  act  towards  her,  when  I  know  both 
sides  of  it?  How  can  I  be  hypocrite  enough  to  try 
to  ...  to  make  things  come  out  right?  Don't  you 
»ee^  " 

Egan  stiffened.  Argument  was  useless.  "  Can't  I 
come  to  see  you  in  Dayton  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  That  wouldn't  be  fair,  either?  " 

**  No.  Oh !  You've  done  exactly  the  same  thing 
over  again  —  over  and  over  and  over.  And  I  thought 
you'd  remember !  I  really  did !  And  you've  spoiled 
our  own  friendship  —  and  maybe  mine  with  her !  Why 
cooildn't  you  have  waited?  " 

Egan  caught  the  sound  of  a  closing  door  at  the 
house. 


194.  EGAN 

"  Sit  down !  Sit  down ! "  he  said  peremptorily. 
"  Here's  Mary !  " 

The  subsequent  hour  was  in  the  nature  of  a  little 
triumph  for  Mary.  Egan,  she  observed,  could  hardly 
control  his  voice  when  he  spoke  to  her,  and  his  eyes  were 
significant.  Martha  was  evidently  subdued  by  her  own 
inferiority  of  fascination.  For  Egan  scarcely  looked 
at  Martha,  even  when,  toward  dinner  time,  he  took  his 
rather  brusque  leave. 


XVI 

BY  the  first  of  September,  it  was  commonly  said 
by  those  older  men  who  prided  themselves  on 
being  practical,  that  Egan  was  "  queer."  The 
mere  mention  of  his  scheme  for  aerial  transportation 
was  good  for  a  laugh  in  almost  any  company.  It 
wasn't,  of  course,  that  the  scheme  was  so  impossible  in 
itself,  but  it  was  queer  that  a  man  with  no  more  ex- 
perience, with  no  more  backing,  and  with  no  more  pres- 
tige than  Egan  should  expect  to  float  it.  It  showed 
that  Egan  was  a  block  off  the  old  chip;  and  that  his 
confidence  in  himself  amounted  to  foolhardiness.  The 
same  gentlemen  who,  under  their  glass  desk-pads,  kept 
littfe  cards  reading  "  It  Can't  Be  Done  —  But  We  Did 
It ! "  and  other  slogans  of  like  purport,  poked  fun  at 
Egan  for  his  vaunting  ambition,  which  they  called 
"  cheek."  One  of  them  said  jocularly  that  the  only 
trouble  with  him  was  that  he  hadn't  learned  to  con- 
sume his  own  smoke. 

Any  of  the  serious-minded  pioneers  of  industry  could 
have  foretold  his  disappointments,  for  the  routine  is  as 
unchangeable  as  human  nature.  The  order  of  events 
is  first,  scoffing  at  the  plan,  secondly,  scoffing  at  the 
combination  of  the  plan  and  the  man ;  finally,  ridiculing 
the  pioneer  on  intimately  personal  and  immaterial 
grounds. 

Time  and  time  again  Egan  would  sketch  for  a  pros- 
pective investor  the  world's  activities  in  conveying  pas- 

195 


196  EGAN 

sengers  and  express  by  air.  He  dilated  on  the  Paris- 
London  line,  with  its  famous  transport  of  a  grand  piano 
across  the  Channel,  to  show  just  what  could  be  done; 
and  its  passenger  schedule  which  originallj  went  into 
operation  for  the  convenience  of  the  British  members  of 
the  Peace  Conference.  He  recited  the  history  of  the 
Aircraft  Manufacturing  Company  of  Great  Britain, 
with  its  service,  already  active,  between  London,  Glas- 
gow, Edinburgh,  Manchester,  Newcastle,  Wales,  and 
Ireland.  He  dilated  upon  the  Paris-Alsace  air  lane, 
used  with  instant  success.  He  quoted  the  published  an- 
nouncements of  the  American  Express  Company,  dating 
as  far  back  as  January,  1919.  He  mentioned  the  trans- 
atlantic trip  of  Commander  Read,  and  of  the  Vickers 
Vimy  bomber,  and  of  the  R  34«.  He  expanded  upon 
commercial  beginnings  in  Canada,  Austraha,  Italy, 
Brazil,  Sweden,  and  even  China. 

"  As  usual,"  he  said,  **  we  developed  the  thing,  and 
now  we're  letting  every  other  country  in  the  world  beat 
us  to  it.  And  it's  only  for  the  lack  of  support  from 
men  like  you." 

But  when  the  theory  was  admitted,  the  next  point  of 
negation  was  always  the  point  of  Egan's  youth,  and 
the  next  after  that  was  always  the  very  fact  which  he 
was  trying  so  hard  to  obviate  —  his  lack  of  capital. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  to  one  particularly  obstinate  listener, 
"  a  lot  of  people  talk  just  that  same  way.  They  tell 
me  to  interest  some  other  men  first,  and  then  come  back. 
It's  like  telling  a  boy  to  stay  away  from  the  water  until 
he  knows  how  to  swim." 

He  had  been  disagreeably  astonished  to  discover  that 
the  plan  didn't  sell  itself;  but  he  consoled  himself  by 


EGAN  197 

arguing  that  it  was  for  lack  of  publicity.  After  the 
Fair,  the  public  would  snap  hungrily  at  it.  He  was 
positive  of  this ;  so  positive  that  it  had  shamed  him 
scarcely  at  all  to  keep  his  little  runabout,  and  to  bor- 
row a  few  hundred  dollars  from  the  Honourable  George. 
Conjointly  with  Adams,  he  had  prepared  a  careful  pros- 
pectus, accurate,  conservative,  and,  he  believed,  unan- 
swerably convincing.  But  he  had  managed  to  secure 
no  cash  subscriptions  at  all,  and  he  had  been  able  to 
wring  pledges  of  only  eleven  thousand  dollars,  with 
every  cent  conditional  upon  his  raising  infinitely  more. 
These  pledges  came  from  personal  friends  of  his  father, 
and  there  was  nothing  whatsoever  from  Mr.  Penny- 
p<icker.  But  even  at  this  stage,  he  never  distrusted  his 
ability  to  organize  and  administer  the  vast  concern 
which  would  render  his  father's  corporation  insignifi- 
cant by  comparison.  He  never  doubted  that  eventu- 
ally he  should  stand  among  the  immortals  of  swift 
achievement.  These  men  who  listened  to  him  now  and 
refused  their  aid,  would  later  sit  down  of  an  evening  to 
figure  out  what  fortunes  they  had  lost  by  their  ob- 
stinacy. He  rather  contemned  them  for  their  stupidity. 
As  to  the  men  of  his  own  age,  men  whom  he  had  lav- 
ishly entertained  and  cleverly  talked  to  without  result, 
he  thought  them  merely  immature. 

To  the  vast  relief  of  both  Judge  Perkins  and  Little 
Johnny  Jones,  he  had  finally  consented  to  hold  the  in- 
surance company  in  abeyance,  pending  the  organization 
ctf  the  more  important  project.  He  hated  to  relinquish 
it,  and  nothing  but  the  report  of  the  State  Commission, 
offered  in  evidence  by  Johnny,  had  induced  him  to  shelve 
it  temporarily.     It  had  seemed  so  timely,  and  so  novel, 


198  EGAN 

and  it  was  all  his  own  conception,  too.  But  Johnny 
had  craftily  shown  him  the  pitfalls,  demonstrated  the 
need  of  large  capital,  and  reminded  him  that  any  of  the 
large  casualty  companies  could,  by  merely  undertaking 
the  writing  of  aerial  risks  in  addition  to  their  other 
lines,  compete  at  tremendous  advantage,  and  Egan  had 
presently  yielded. 

"  Just  until  we  can  get  loose  from  the  transportation 
company,  though,"  he  said  warningly. 

To  the  transportation  venture  itself,  the  Honourable 
George  was  still  flatly  Missourian,  but  Egan  had  got 
him  the  report  of  the  British  Parliamentary  Committee 
on  Civil  Aerial  Transport,  and  furnished  data  on 
eleven  organizations  already  in  the  American  field,  and 
the  old  lawyer  had  grudgingly  conceded  that  Egan  had 
a  perfect  right  to  hazard  his  own  money  on  it. 

They  had  made  it  a  very  modestly  capitalized  con- 
cern, with  Egan  and  the  Honourable  George  and  Uncle 
Stanley  Adams  the  directors. 

"  I've  heard  from  my  friend  in  Buffalo,"  said  Egan, 
"  and  they'll  ship  me  an  H  on  ten  days'  notice.  After 
the  Fair,  we  can  sell  all  the  stock  we  want  to,  and  buy 
the  rest  of  the  ships." 

**  Got  your  concession  from  the  Fair  Committee 
yet?  "  asked  the  Honourable  George. 

Egan  hadn't,  but  he  promised  to  set  about  it  straight- 
way. "  There  can't  be  any  hitch  there,"  he  said  con- 
fidently, "  so  I  guess  it's  pretty  nearly  time  to  start  up 
the  publicity,  and  get  my  license  from  the  Joint  Board 
in  Washington." 

Accordingly,  Uncle  Stanley  Adams  started  up  the 
publicity  in  the  Plainfield  Times,  and  Plainfield  —  or 


EGAN  199 

that  part  of  it  which  hadn't  previously  shared  the 
knowledge  of  Egan's  dream  —  it  gasped.  Even  people 
like  Henry  Luke  took  a  different  attitude,  because  of 
the  direct  and  positive  statements  in  the  press.  For 
the  moment,  Egan's  repute  swung  backwards,  and  lo- 
cally he  was  almost  a  hero  again.  His  civilian  license 
duly  arrived,  and  the  Times  ran  a  column  and  a  half 
on  the  front  page,  with  a  half-tone  of  Egan  in  his 
Lieutenant's  uniform. 

Late  one  afternoon  in  the  week  before  the  Fair,  he 
came  wearily  into  the  Honourable  George's  office,  and 
sat  down  hard  in  the  nearest  chair.  His  mouth  was 
very  firm  and  straight,  and  his  eyes  had  metal  in  them. 

"  What's  the  trouble  ?  "  asked  the  Honourable  George 
quickly. 

**  Big  trouble,"  said  Egan,  rubbing  his  forehead. 
«  Eddie  Macklin." 

"  What's  he  done  now .?  " 

"  Done  .'*  "  Egan  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Did 
you  know  he's  on  the  Committee  of  the  County  Fair 
Society.''  I  didn't.  Well  —  they've  refused  to  give  me 
space,  that's  aU." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  lawyer.  "  Not  reaUy  ?  Is , 
that  a  fact !  Well,  don't  you  give  up,  Bronson !  Maybe 
we  can  use  some  influence  and  — " 

"  No  use.  No  use  at  all."  Egan  laughed  hollowly. 
"They  must  have  jumped  as  soon  as  we  ran  that  first 
stuff  in  the  Times.  They  must  have  gone  at  it  hammer 
and  tongs.  Anyway,  they've  gone  and  made  a  contract 
with  another  flyer  —  oh,  they  were  as  polite  as  could 
be ;  Eddie  wasn't  in  the  office ;  they  showed  me  the  con- 
tract —  and  it's  an  exclusive  privilege.     And  that's  the 


200  EGAN 

end  of  it.  There  isn't  another  decent  landing  field 
within  three  quarters  of  a  mile.  It's  all  farms  under 
cultivation.  The  infield  of  the  race  track  is  all  there  is. 
That's  what  I'd  counted  on.  And  even  if  I  tried  to  run 
it  outside  the  grounds,  enough  people  to  make  it  worth 
while  wouldn't  travel  three  quarters  of  a  mile  on  their 
own  initiative  —  not  in  Fair  week.  And  a  couple  of 
thousand  dollars'  profit  wouldn't  be  anything  —  it 
wouldn't  hardly  pay  for  the  risk.  I  wouldn't  make 
enough  to  pay  for  the  ship  —  even  figuring  on  selling  it 
to  the  transportation  company  afterwards.  The  whole 
point  was  having  it  take  off  and  land  inside  the  grounds, 
where  everybody  could  see  it  close  up.     We're  cooked." 

The  Honourable  George  endeavoured  to  conceal  his 
relief. 

"  Even  so  .  .  .  well,  that  was  only  a  grandstand 
play  anyhow,  Bronson.  I  wouldn't  feel  so  bad  about 
it,  if  I  was  you.  I  never  did  approve  of  it,  and  I  told 
you  so.  It's  too  bad,  if  you'd  set  your  heart  on  it,  and 
it's  dirt  mean  of  Eddie  if  he  had  anything  to  do  with  it, 
but  why  don't  you  wipe  it  off  the  slate,  and  begin  to 
work  on  the  main  scheme?  " 

"  With  whose  money.''"  inquired  Egan  presently. 
"  You  see,  I'd  counted  on  putting  up  close  to  five  thou- 
sand myself.  That  would  have  got  us  started.  That 
was  for  the  first  bunch  of  expenses.  Maybe  that  sounds 
a  little  wild,  but  I  thought  I  could  do  it.  I  figured  I 
could  get  a  change  pilot  for  little  or  nothing,  and  we'd 
get  in  'way  over  a  hundred  hours  before  the  Fair  closed. 
At  a  dollar  a  minute.  And  the  expenses  would  be 
practically  nothing.  Now  thafs  blown — "  He  ex- 
haled prodigiously.     "  Hang  it,  it's  a  lot  worse  having 


EGAN  201 

it  killed  now  than  it  would  have  been  if  I'd  tried  it,  and 
fallen  down.  I  hate  to  get  throttled  off  like  that  — 
but  the  worst  of  it  is  that  I  won't  ever  know  whether  the 
darned  scheme  would  have  paid  or  not.  Like  losing  a 
golf  ball  —  you  don't  care  so  much  about  losing  the 
ball,  but  you  hate  to  lose  the  ball.  Well  —  it's  all  off. 
We're  buffaloed.  Forget  it.  .  .  .  What  can  we  do 
about  the  transportation  company.''  " 

"  It  begins  to  look  to  me,  Bronson,  as  though  you'd 
have  to  depend  entirely  on  outside  capital." 

"  It  does  to  me,  too." 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry  I  can't  see  my  way  clear  to  .  .  . 
Ill  help  you  every  bit  I  can,  and  I'll  do  your  legal  work, 
and  be  a  director,  but  somehow  I  can't  let  you  have 
that  money  myself;  I'm  positive  you'd  go  lose  it.  It 
isn't  stinginess,  either.  You  can  have  all  I've  got  if 
it's  for  3'ou,  Bronson  —  for  you  to  live  on,  if  you  need 
it  —  but  not  for  those  cussed  flying  machines.  I  don't 
trust  'em." 

"  I  know."  Egan  was  very  subdued.  **  I  don't 
blame  you.  Uncle  George.  That's  your  way  of  looking 
at  it.  But  of  course  that  may  be  just  the  thing  that'll 
prevent  me  from  interesting  anybody  else.  We've  got 
to  consider  that  possibility,  too.  People  would  nat- 
urally want  to  know  how  much  we  three  are  in  for. 
Practically  everybody  I've  seen  has  asked  me  that,  as 
it  is.  And  that  added  to  the  fact  that  none  of  these 
people  have  seen  much  flying,  and  I  was  counting  so 
much  on  the  Fair  for  publicity  — " 

"  True."  The  Honourable  George  scratched  his 
head.  "  You've  got  to  get  outside  capital  to  start 
with.     If  you  can't  get  it,  you'll  just  have  to  let  the 


«02  EGAN 

thing  slide.  I'll  back  you  to  the  limit  in  any  ordinary 
commercial  proposition,  but  this  is  one  too  many  for 
me.  And  just  the  same,  I  hope  you  get  it  going,  and 
make  it  succeed  so  well  I'U  look  like  an  old  fool." 

Egan  bristled.  "  You  don't  think  I'm  licked,  do 
you?  I  tell  you,  I'm  going  to  start  it,  and  I'm  going 
to  run  it,  and  I'm  going  to  control  it,  and  I'm  going  to 
put  it  over  no  matter  what  happens.     That's  settled." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  live  in  the  meantime,  though.'* 
SeU  your  car?  " 

Egan  had  the  grace  to  blush.  The  Judge  had  never 
once  criticized  him  for  his  extravagance. 

**  I've  been  thinking  it  over  while  we've  been  talking, 
and  I've  got  a  plan  that  ought  to  work  out  very  nicely. 
I  thought  if  I  could  land  something  that  would  just 
pay  my  running  expenses,  and  leave  me  time  enough  to 
talk  this  transportation  scheme  with  people  who  have 
money,  there  wouldn't  be  so  much  of  a  rush  about  it. 
Then  when  we've  got  enough  guarantees  to  go  ahead 
with — "  He  broke  off  as  the  door  ripped  open  to  ad- 
mit Stanley  Adams,  very  red  of  face,  and  prodigiously 
out  of  temper. 

"  Hello,  Adams.  Come  on  in,"  invited  the  Honour- 
able George  cordially. 

Egan  gestured  towards  the  reporter.  "  Come  and 
listen  to  this,  Uncle  Stanley.  I'm  telling  what  I'm  go- 
ing to  do  next.     The  Fair  Committee  — " 

"  I  know  all  about  that,"  said  Adams,  shortly.  "  The 
infernal  cut-throats ! " 

Egan  looked  at  him  inquiringly.  "  Well,  I'm  not 
going  to  cry  about  it,  so  I  guess  you  don't  need  to. 
Eddie's   having  his  inning:   ours'll   come  later.     For-/ 


EGAN  203 

tunes  of  war,  that's  all.  I'm  just  telling  what  I  want 
to  do.  I've  got  a  heap  of  interesting  war  stories,  and 
I  know  this  town  about  as  well  as  anybody  else  does  —  I 
don't  see  why  I  couldn't  act  as  a  sort  of  special  writer 
for  the  Times,  to  tide  me  over  for  a  while,  do  you?  I 
wouldn't  want  much ;  say,  thirty  or  thirty-five  dollars  a 
week.  Uncle  George'll  loan  me  the  rest.  And  that'll 
give  me  time  enough  to  — " 

Adams  interrupted  him  savagely.  "  Seen  today's 
Times?  " 

"  Why  —  no." 

"  Here's  one.  Just  off  the  press."  He  flung  it 
towards  Egan,  who  eventually  had  to  get  up  and  re- 
trieve the  damp  pages  from  the  floor.  "  First  page  — 
top  of  fourth  column  —  boxed  —  you  can't  miss  it." 

He  began  to  pace  the  floor  impatiently  while  Egan 
unrolled  the  tightly  creased  journal,  and  found  the 
place.  He  halted,  and  glared  at  Egan.  Egan  read, 
blanched,  and  without  a  word,  walked  over  and  put  the 
sheet  before  the  Honourable  George. 

DON'T  LET  YOUR  CHICKENS  FLY 
BEFORE  THEY'RE  HATCHED 

The  Tvmes  announces  with  regret,  not  unmixed  with 
a  soup^on  of  grave  humour,  that  the  promised  —  yea, 
the  trumpetingly  heralded  —  exhibition  flights  during 
Fair  Week  will  not  be  made  by  our  youthful  townsman, 
Mr.  Bronson  Egan.  Nor  does  it  appear,  now  that  the 
truth  has  emerged  from  hiding,  that  Mr.  Egan  will 
have  the  opportunity  of  carrying  voluntary  passengers 
towards  Heaven  at  the  rate  of  about  two  cents  a  foot, 
which  was  his  avidly  concealed  intention,  not  included 


204.  EGAN 

in  his  published  utterances.  Indeed,  Mr.  Egan,  who 
was  but  recently  discharged  from  the  Air  Service, 
seems  to  have  promptly  enlisted  in  the  Hot  Air  Serv- 
ice, and  placed  himself  on  active  duty  in  our  too  gul- 
lible midst. 

The  facts  —  the  oflBcial,  incontrovertible,  copper- 
riveted  facts  —  are  that  Mr.  Egan,  despite  the  com- 
muniques emanating  from  him  during  the  last  few  days, 
will  not  fly  at  all  during  Fair  Week  (which,  under  the 
usual  misnomer,  wiU  last  a  fortnight).  What  other 
essentials  he  neglected  to  provide  for,  we  cannot  say, 
but  he  certainly  neglected  to  arrange  for  a  concession 
covering  the  use  of  the  race  track,  and  his  various  state- 
ments to  the  Times  were  therefore  without  the  slight- 
est authority.  In  the  meantime  the  Fair  Committee 
had  already  corresponded  with,  and  actually  contracted 
with,  ex-Lieutenant  R.  C.  Utley,  who  formerly  held  the 
American  record  of  135  consecutive  loops.  Mr.  Utley 
will  fly  daily,  stunting  at  10 :30  a.  m.  and  3  p.  m.,  and 
taking  up  passengers  between  times  at  a  reasonable 
figure,  all  for  the  profit  of  the  Fair,  and  not  for  any 
individual. 

This  correction  is  printed  at  the  request  of  the  Fair 
Committee,  in  justice  to  it,  and  to  Mr.  Utley,  and  — 
it  may  be  with  reverse  English  —  to  Mr.  Egan. 

The  Honourable  George  laid  down  his  spectacles  ten- 
derly, and  nursed  his  knees. 

"  Who  wrote  that,  Adams.?  " 

"  A  little  squirt  on  the  city  staff'.  I  didn't  see  it 
until  it  was  off'  the  press  —  damn  it !  "  He  turned  on 
Egan.  "  What  was  that  pipe-dream  you  had  a  while 
ago.''  Get  you  a  job  on  the  Times?  After  that? 
Well,   not   exactly."     He   snorted   violently.     "  What 


EGAN  205 

I'm  worrying  about  is  where  my  next  job  is.  I'm  go- 
ing to  need  monej^  myself,  and  need  it  bad." 

"  Did  you  quit?  "  asked  the  Honourable  George,  with 
a  glance  for  Egan,  who  was  standing  in  abject  silence 
at  the  window. 

Adams  motioned  belligerently. 

"  I  didn't  have  time.  They  fired  me."  He  displayed 
the  knuckles  of  his  right  hand.  **  I  did  that  on  the 
chap  who  wrote  it.  He's  got  a  glass  jaw.  The  old 
man's  got  a  kick  left  in  him  yet,  by  thunder !  And 
they  —  that's  the  only  thing  I'm  sorry  for  —  they  fired 
me  before  I  could  stop  stuttering  long  enough  to  quit. 
I'm  through,  and  I'm  glad  of  it." 

Egan  turned  back  from  the  window. 

"  It's  going  to  be  darned  hard  sledding  for  me  to  sell 
five  dollar  gold  pieces  for  sixty-nine  cents  apiece  after 
that,"  he  said.  "  But  I'm  going  on  trying  to  put  that 
company  over  until  I'm  dead, —  hear  me  ?  " 

Judge  Perkins  cleared  his  throat.  "  Stanley,"  he 
said,  "  don't  you  think  it's  pretty  near  time  you  showed 
Bronson  the  best  way  to  go  about  getting  a  job?  " 


xvn 

THE  billboards  of  the  city  had  changed,  in  the 
last  few  months,  that  percentage  of  their 
blazoned  appeal  which  had  been  purely  pa- 
triotic. Except  for  a  few  neglected  corners,  pathetic 
in  their  belated  insistence  upon  Administration  dogmas 
— "  Food  Will  Win  the  War,"  «  Fuel  Will  Win  the 
War,"  "  Thrift  Will  Win  the  War,"  "  Can  Vegetables 
and  Can  the  Kaiser,  Too,"  "  Buy  W.  B.  S.  Now  and 
Help  Win  the  War,"  the  spaces  contributed  to  the  Gov- 
ernment by  the  outdoor  advertising  companies  now 
showed  a  series  of  warnings  to  an  already  forgetful  de- 
mocracy. "  A  Job  for  Every  Soldier,  and  a  Soldier  for 
Every  Job,"  "  If  They  Were  Good  Enough  to  Fight  for 
You,  They're  Good  Enough  to  Work  for  You,"  "  Hire 
the  Fighting  Man  First."  But  the  Administration  dog- 
mas had  been  dignified  by  three-sheets,  while  all  that 
the  United  States  Employment  Service  could  afford, 
now  that  the  war  was  safely  over,  and  the  policy  of 
retrenchment  begun,  was  a  modest  little  square  not 
much  larger  than  a  desk  blotter.  The  space  was  gra- 
tuitous, but  the  Government  was  economical  even  on 
printing. 

And  in  spite  of  the  message  of  those  modest  little 
squares,  which  represented  a  lower  expenditure  than  any 
manufacturer  would  consider  adequate  to  put  a  new 
brand  of  cigarettes  or  talcum-powder  before  the  public, 
the  democracy  was  edging  slowly  towards  the  business- 
like point  of  view.     Publicity,  and  sounding  slogans, 

206 


EGAN  207 

exert  the  best  influence  when  they  suggest  something  not 
too  expensive  for  the  average  reader.  Patriotism  is 
harder  to  sell  in  peace-time  than  winter  underwear  in 
Borneo.  And  one  of  the  very  hardest  things  in  all  the 
world  is  to  persuade  a  man  to  hire  somebody  he  doesn't 
affirmatively  want  to  hire. 

As  Egan  told  himself  dumbly,  Captain  Eddie  Ricken- 
backer,  the  leading  American  ace,  could  naturally  com- 
mand a  lofty  salary  in  many  fields,  because  Captain 
Rickenbacker  had  originally  been  an  automobile  expert, 
and  because  the  press  had  ^ven  him,  for  the  last  two 
years,  greater  publicity  than  ten  million  dollars  could 
buy.  And  there  was  a  large  percentage  of  returning 
fighters  like  Rickenbacker  for  whom  the  billboards  per- 
formed no  service.  Any  one  who  had  learned  to  com- 
mand men,  or  learned  to  be  a  genius  in  paper  work,  or 
perfected  himself  in  some  non-combatant  specialty,  was 
worth  more  than  ever  to  a  prospective  employer.  But 
Egan  had  commanded  no  men,  and  learned  no  specialty 
except  that  in  which  he  purposed  to  make  himself  a 
leader.  He  had  no  desire  to  ally  himself  with  any  other 
aircraft  venture,  and  to  be  an  underling  in  it.  And 
there  was  none  of  these  in  Plainfield  anyway,  and  he 
wanted  to  live  in  Plainfield. 

Indeed,  as  Egan  saw  the  situation,  the  non-combatant 
executive  had  acquired  the  most  valuable  experience  of 
all.  Men  like  General  Guy  Tripp  of  Ordnance  Pro- 
duction ;  Colonel  George  Mixter  and  Lieutenant  H.  H. 
Emmons  of  Aircraft  Production;  Lieutenant  Colonel 
Bingham  and  Colonel  Walter  Dill  Scott,  chief  of  Army 
personnel  work ;  Colonel  Vincent  of  the  Liberty  Engine 
and  General  Kenly  of  the  Air   Service  and   Captain 


208  EGAN 

Grover  O'Neill,  his  aide,  and  Captain  Carroll  Dunham 
and  Major  Clarence  Little  of  the  Air  Service  Person- 
nel ;  Colonel  Warren,  Father  of  the  Questionnaire,  Lieu- 
tenant Colonel  Bab  Andrews  of  the  Motor  Transport 
Corps,  all  acquaintances  of  Egan  or  of  his  father ;  these 
were  types  of  men  whose  non-combatant  achievements 
gave  them  a  hugely  increased  value  professionally  or 
commercially,  and  insured  their  future,  whether  they 
needed  additional  insurance  or  not.  They  had  gained 
more  breadth  of  experience  in  a  year  and  a  half,  or  two 
years,  than  twenty  years  of  peace  could  have  provided. 

But  the  typical  fighting  pilot,  as  such,  had  made  no 
record  which  any  employer  except  the  War  Depart- 
ment or  an  aircraft  manufacturer  could  rightfully  set 
down  among  his  prima  facie  assets.  Experience  in 
command  of  men,  experience  in  administration,  experi- 
ence in  production,  experience  in  conservation,  trans- 
portation, finance,  experience  in  the  sciences  —  from 
the  holy  science  of  medicine  to  the  unholy  science  of 
gas  defence  —  experience  in  the  Service  of  Supply  and 
in  the  all-but-civilian  bureaucratic  units,  had  a  com- 
mercial outlet.  Why  should  an  employer  hire  as  a 
clerk  or  as  a  general  manager,  an  individual  without 
the  usual  quaUfying  characteristics,  habits,  and  ten- 
dencies, merely  because  the  candidate  had  beaten  off 
three  Fokkers  over  the  Bois  d'Barricourt .'' 

Except  for  the  irrelevant  fact  that  Egan  had  lost  a 
great  inheritance,  he  was  in  the  same  category  with 
thousands  of  young  men  of  the  same  age.  He  was  col- 
lege-trained;  but  the  mere  circumstance  of  having  at- 
tended a  few  lectures  at  an  institution  operated  on  the 
assumption  that  youth  comes  to  college  to  be  educated, 


EGAN  209 

has  never  yet  borne  with  it  the  assumption  of  innate 
ability,  and  never  should.  The  business  of  life  is  to 
make,  to  transport,  and  to  sell.  Egan  had  learned 
only  how  best  to  destroy. 

He  had  won  honours  for  cruising  above  the  clouds, 
magnificent  and  lonely  as  an  eagle,  and  equally  a  source 
of  terror  to  his  prey.  Now  that  his  feet  were  on  the 
ground,  he  wasn't  worth  a  penny  an  hour  more  than  the 
boy  who  had  stayed  at  home,  and,  after  spending  a  few 
minutes  on  the  war  bulletins  before  dinner,  studied  a 
correspondence  course  in  efficiency  until  bedtime.  In- 
deed, he  was  worth  considerably  less. 

He  was  twenty-five,  without  a  single  item  of  mental 
equipment  to  put  him  above  the  average  of  value  of  a 
man  just  strutting  forth  from  college  with  diploma  in^ 
hand.  He  was  well  disciplined,  but  the  discipline  was 
of  a  sort  to  set  the  brakes  on  his  initiative.  He  was 
accustomed  to  military  ways  of  correspondence,  to  mili- 
tary ways  of  decentralized  authority,  to  military  ways 
of  counting  lead-pencils  and  sometimes  neglecting  to 
count  freight-cars.  And  his  normal  taste  was  for  a 
commanding  position  in  the  world  —  a  position  carry- 
ing with  it  a  good  income,  and  a  good  status  in  society. 

His  misfortune  wasn't  in  any  sense  his  fault.  It 
wasn't  the  fault  of  his  Government.  It  wasn't  any- 
body's fault ;  except,  perhaps,  that  the  hysterical  writ- 
ers of  special  magazine  articles  might  have  blamed  it 
on  the  grandfather  of  Germany's  last  Kaiser.  But  it 
was  stultifying,  nevertheless.  Egan  would  have  reacted 
sharply  to  the  theory  that  the  Government,  having 
helped  to  prevent  him  from  learning  how  to  make  a 
living,  thereby  owed  him  one.     The  war  had  been  indi- 


210  EGAN 

vidualistic.  He  had  fought  not  for  an  abstract  ideal, 
but  for  a  personal  cause.  Even  if  he  had  been  drafted, 
he  should  still  have  felt  that  it  was  an  individual  propo- 
sition. It  was  merely  his  contribution  towards  the 
privilege  of  living  among  Americans.  Indeed,  he  saw 
no  merit  in  the  placarded  suggestion  of  the  Employ- 
ment Service  to  the  effect  that  mere  contact  with  the 
Army  should  be  regarded  as  a  sort  of  general  refer- 
ence. 

He  realized  that  the  war,  bringing  sudden  and  acute 
demands  for  certain  things  and  stifling  the  production 
of  others,  had  arbitrarily  made  manufacturers  richer 
than  they  had  ever  dreamed,  or  made  them  poorer  than 
they  had  ever  feared.  The  rich  employer  was  still 
willing,  in  many  cases,  to  hire  discharged  soldiers 
whether  he  needed  them  or  not.  It  was  a  spectacular 
thing  to  do.  Half  a  dozen  factories  in  Plainfield  even 
specialized  in  cripples,  capitalizing  the  charity.  The 
empty-sleeved  veteran  was  already  to  be  noted  at  the 
doorway  of  large  buildings ;  it  was  hardly  noticeable, 
now,  whether  the  elevator  operator  wore  ribbon-bars  or 
not.  By  the  same  token,  Egan  could  have  found  a 
place  for  himself  in  twenty  minutes.  He  could  have 
found  it  with  Kent.  And  it  would  have  been  worth  just 
about  what  it  cost  him  in  self-respect. 

The  dry-goods  clerk  who  became  a  second-lieutenant 
in  the  Quartermaster  Corps  and  worked  in  a  domestic 
Depot,  the  mechanic  who  got  his  chevrons  for  Motor 
Transport  work  at  cantonment,  the  laboratory-worker 
who  began  and  finished  his  service  at  Edgewood  in 
Chemical  .Warfare,  the  metal  salesman  who  broadened 
his  knowledge  and  won  the  contumely  of  Congress  by 


EGAN  211 

living  as  an  Ordnance  officer  in  Washington  —  all  these 
were  better  fitted  to  earn  a  living  than  they  had  been 
before.  Skilled  workmen  were  precious,  regardless  of 
their  trade.  But  the  well-born  youth  who  would  nor- 
mally have  gone  into  something  cleanly  and  conven- 
tional —  selling  bonds  or  taking  up  the  reins  of  hii^ 
father's  business  —  he  had  merely  won  conscience,  and 
lost  time.  To  this  extent,  the  draft-dodger  had  won 
the  inside  track  from  him. 

Egan  could  take  his  choice  of  twice  a  hundred  jobs 
in  Plainfield.  A  hundred  and  fifty  of  them  were  char- 
ity, masquerading  as  patriotism.  Forty  of  them  were 
in  common  labour.  Nine  of  them  were  kid-glove  op- 
portunities, excellent  for  the  high-school  graduate  with 
vanity  and  little  foresight  —  white  collar  jobs,  with 
nothing  ahead  but  hard-wrung  increases  of  a  dollar  a 
week,  and  eventually  a  jerry-built  white  house  with  two 
mortgages  on  it. 

Two  weeks  sped  past,  on  borrowed  money,  while  he 
thought  it  over. 


xvni 

SOCIALLY,  for  a  fortnight,  Egan  had  all  but 
eliminated  himself  from  Plainfield.  It  was 
neither  out  of  youthful  pessimism,  nor  out  of 
rancour;  it  was  neither  because  he  was  afraid,  nor  be- 
cause he  was  ashamed  to  resume  his  old  life;  he  had 
calmly  considered  the  circumstances,  and  made  a  vol- 
untary choice.  The  clock  was  his  counsellor.  He  had 
no  time  for  diversion.  Society,  in  its  common  aspect, 
would  have  been  a  liability  to  him  instead  of  an  asset. 
Some  of  his  none  too  friendly  acquaintances,  and  some 
of  his  analytical  ones,  like  Henry  Luke,  might  judge 
that  he  had  deliberately  run  to  cover ;  and  a  few  might 
even  go  so  far  as  to  hint  that  after  the  expose  in  the 
Times  he  had  been  dropped,  but  Egan  wasn't  inter- 
ested in  what  they  thought,  or  said.  He  knew  that 
society  partakes  of  the  distinguishing  quality  of  a 
nettle.  He  knew  that  society,  regarded  as  a  more  or 
less  organized  form  of  exclusiveness,  takes  its  promi- 
nence not  so  much  from  the  complacence  of  those  who 
are  a  part  of  it,  as  from  the  tacit  consent  of  others  to 
be  excluded  —  or  at  least  their  tacit  recognition  of  the 
fact  that  excluded  they  are,  and  will  be.  Egan  con- 
sented to  no  exclusion  of  himself,  nor  did  he  admit  a 
cause.  He  knew  that  he  could  still  go  where  he  chose, 
when  he  chose.  And  while  he  was  studying,  and  trying 
to  make  up  his  mind  what  to  do,  he  chose  to  go  nowhere, 
except  to  the  Metropolitan  Club. 

At  first,  he  hadn't  recalled  his  vested  privilege.     Old 
212 


EGAN  ai3 

Man  Egan's  admission,  twelve  years  ago,  had  automati- 
cally placed  Bronson  in  nomination  at  twenty-one. 
He  had  been  elected  during  his  senior  year  at  college, 
and  Old  Man  Egan  had  paid  his  dues  for  him  up  to  last 
autumn.  Between  graduation  and  embarkation,  he 
hadn't  found  time  to  use  the  club,  but  when  he  first  came 
home,  he  had  remembered,  and  he  had  rather  inferred 
that  his  long  absence  and  failure  to  pay  his  tithes  had 
disenfranchised  him.  He  had  asked  tlie  Honourable 
George  Perkins  about  it,  and  the  Honourable  George 
had  found  out  for  him  that  members  in  service  were 
exempt  from  dues,  and  that  Egan  was  still  carried  on 
the  rolls. 

He  had  always  liked  the  Metropolitan,  and,  as  he  be- 
came gradually  aware  that  it  had  been  a  grave  mistake 
for  him  to  try  to  spur  his  sentiments  by  going  to  live 
at  the  old  house  on  Vine  Street,  he  fell  into  the  habit  of 
using  the  club  more  and  more.  The  sense  of  repose  he 
got  from  it  was  almost  as  refreshing  as  though  he  had 
been  a  hen-pecked  benedict ;  he  liked  especially  the  li- 
brary, high-ceiled,  ruddy-lighted,  almost  perfectly 
quiet ;  and  at  the  end  of  a  long  day  of  interviewing  re- 
calcitrant prospects  on  the  Transportation  project,  or 
at  the  fag  end  of  a  futile  evening  of  worry  about  per- 
sonal finances  and  a  well-paying  job  without  too  much 
labour  attached  to  it,  he  often  spent  a  few  solitary 
hours  there,  relaxed  and  with  a  blank  brain,  before  he 
went  on  home. 

"  Home  "  was  a  term  which  seemed  to  be  growing  less 
and  less  applicable  to  the  house  on  Vine  Street.  Egan 
was  minded  of  one  of  his  old  fraternity  songs :  "  There 
Is  No  Place  Like  Home  to  Me  —  That's  Why  I  Stay 


214.  EGAN 

Away."  The  atmosphere  of  it  had  become  almost  in- 
sufferable, now  that  Miss  McCain,  submerged  in  the 
depths  of  unrequited  love,  had  foundered  with  her  do- 
mestic tragedy.  Miss  McCain  was  frequently  passed 
on  the  stairs,  or  in  the  hallway,  and  her  behaviour,  at 
such  times,  was  irritating.  She  crowded  the  wall,  like 
a  timid  fawn  in  the  presence  of  a  Mohock,  and  snif- 
fled. Egan  couldn't  determine  whether  the  sniffle  was 
meant  as  a  direct  indictment,  or  as  the  best  available 
substitute  for  a  salutation,  but  in  any  event,  it  wasn't  a 
happy  sound.  Wherever  Miss  McCain  went,  the  air 
had  an  excess  of  moisture  in  it.  She  constantly  car- 
ried a  handkerchief,  balled  tight. 

Her  mother,  having  been  a  mother  only  once,  never 
of  a  son,  and  never  having  cultivated  either  a  sense  of 
humour  or  an  understanding  of  the  irresponsibility  of 
youth,  was  of  military  dignity  and  repression.  Her 
mouth  might  have  been  ruled  thin  by  a  hot  iron.  Her 
eyes  were  perpetually  unsmiling,  and  fixed  on  the  fourth 
dimension.  Occasionally  she  would  find  herself  bobbing 
her  head  for  emphasis,  while  she  made  up  vitriolic 
speeches  for  Eddie  Macklin.  It  was  a  little  discon- 
certing for  the  spectators.  She  was  sometimes  forget- 
ful of  her  duties,  too,  and  Egan  had  occasion  more  than 
once  to  dislike  his  breakfast.  He  was  sorry  for  her 
chilled  heart,  but  he  couldn't  carry  his  sympathy  over 
to  apply  to  his  eggs. 

It  was  a  house  of  drab  memories  for  almost  all  its 
inhabitants.  The  kind  of  house  which  encourages  no 
laughter  at  all,  and  causes  voices  to  be  hushed,  even  in 
privacy.  In  another  season,  it  would  certainly  smell 
musty,  no  matter  how  much  it  was  ventilated. 


EGAN  215 

To  Egan,  the  presence  of  the  Honourable  George  in 
his  old  room  had  its  drawbacks,  also.  The  Honourable 
George  was  unquestionably  ageing.  His  temper  had 
frayed  a  little,  and  although  he  was  fond  of  Egan,  and 
sympathetic,  he  had  begun  to  think,  at  odd  moments,  of 
the  next  life.  The  Honourable  George,  like  Egan, 
haxln't  a  living  relative,  and  philosophy  is  cold  comfort 
for  a  man  who  slips  into  the  habit  of  waking  up  at 
night,  and  dreaming  of  facing  the  end  of  things  alone. 
His  interest  in  his  practice  had  commenced  to  wane,  his 
interest  in  Egan's  transportation  company  was  hardly 
more  than  veiling  for  his  fondness  for  Egan.  He  was 
an  agnostic,  and  consequently  a  grave  problem  to  him- 
self in  old  age. 

As  for  the  other  boarders,  Little  Johnny  Jones  was 
everybody's  friend,  and  rarely  at  home.  He  was  still 
making  sporadic  attempts  to  drag  Egan  out  into  gaiety 
with  him;  but  when  Egan  wouldn't  go,  Johnny  went 
alone.  Adams  was  Adams.  The  disgruntled  artist 
who  ate  by  induction  and  gestured  with  his  thumb  on 
all  occasions  was  merely  an  excitable  bore.  Mr.  Wil- 
son predicated  his  remarks  upon  the  assumption  that 
everybody  was  interested  in  his  insomnia,  his  appetite, 
and  the  trip  he  had  taken  to  California  in  1902.  Mr. 
Pennypacker  was  a  thorn. 

Egan  would  have  fled  the  house  in  an  instant,  save 
for  the  responsibilities  he  felt  that  he  had  undertaken. 
Judge  Perkins  had  joined  the  household  on  Egan's  rep- 
resentations. But  there  was  no  valid  reason  to  prevent 
Egan  from  spending  his  evenings  at  the  Metropolitan 
Club,  and  whether  or  not  he  felt  guilty  about  it,  he  spent 
them  there. 


216  EGAN 

He  was  sitting  in  the  library  one  night,  pawing  over 
some  magazines,  when  one  of  his  conditional  subscribers 
came  up  to  him  with  a  newspaper  in  his  hand.  The 
man  was  a  small  manufacturer  who  had  sold  nuts  and 
bolts  to  Egan's  father  for  fifteen  years.  He  had  prom- 
ised to  invest  a  thousand  dollars  when  the  rest  of  the 
subscriptions,  put  together,  totalled  a  hundred  thou- 
sand. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  guess  that  roast  they  gave  you 
in  the  Times  didn't  hurt  as  much  as  I  thought  it  would." 

Although  the  matter  had  rarely  been  mentioned  to 
him,  or  even  hinted  at,  the  profound  disaster  of  Egan's 
Fair  Week  program  had  seriously  damaged  his  chances 
for  the  larger  glory.  That  article  in  the  Times  had 
carried  too  much  of  a  sting  in  it.  That  sting  was  a 
thousand  times  more  potent  than  a  two-column  destruc- 
tive criticism,  written  in  learned  polysyllables,  could 
ever  have  been.  Most  men  who  had  read  it,  instinc- 
tively shied  away  from  Egan's  arguments,  their  minds 
glued  to  Fair  Week,  and  the  Times.  Only  those  who 
hadn't  seen  it,  those  who  denounced  the  Times  as  yel- 
low, and  those  who  believed  in  Egan  primaril}-^  as  the 
son  of  his  father,  had  been  willing  to  listen  seriously  to 
Egan  afterwards. 

"  What's  the  idea  ?     I  don't  understand  you  ?  " 

**  Why,"  said  the  older  member.  "  I  guess  I'll  have 
to  write  you  a  x;heck  one  of  these  fine  days,  Mr.  Egan, 
won't  I.?" 

Egan  smiled,  uncomprehending.     "  I  hope  so." 

"  I  certainly  do  congratulate  you.  I  see  you've 
taken  my  advice." 

"  Er  .  .  .  what  advice  was  that?  " 


EGAN  217 

"  About  subordinating  yourself  in  your  scheme  to 
older  men  with  —  ah  —  prestige." 

"  Do  you  mean  Judge  Perkins  ?  He's  been  con- 
nected with  me  from  the  very  beginning.  I'm  sure  I 
told  you  that." 

The  older  member  was  momentarily  stumped.  "  I'm 
sure  the  Judge  is  the  best  man  in  Plainfield  for  his 
place,""  he  said  awkwardly,  "  but  I  was  —  I  think  the 
business  men  you've  associated  with  you  make  it  a  much 
better  proposition.  I  mean,  from  a  selfish  point  of 
view.  I  must  admit  I  was  disappointed  not  to  have  my 
own  name  — " 

"  The  other  business  men.''  " 

"  Exactly.     Mr.  Henderson,  and  — " 

Egan  caught  at  the  reference. 

"  Say  that  again !  " 

The  third  of  the  trio  stepped  involuntarily  back- 
wards. "  Gracious  !  .  .  .  Why,  I  said  Mr.  Henderson, 
and—" 

"  Henderson?  " 

"  Yes,  Martin  Henderson.  The  Dayton  man.  He 
and—" 

"  What  on  earth  ever  gave  you  the  impression  that 
he's  associated  with  me?  " 

"  Wh}^  the  Herald  says  so  tonight,  Mr.  Egan.  Isn't 
it  true.?  " 

Egan's  face  was  a  study.  "  It  most  assuredly  is 
not." 

"  Why  —  that's  curious." 

"  Where  was  this  —  in  the  Herald,  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Oh,  that's  so.  The  edition  was  pretty  late 
tonight.     Isn't  there  a  copy  here .f'     I  just  brought  this 


218  EGAN 

one  in  myself.     It's  on  the  front  page  —  here.     Right 
there  by  my  thumb." 

The  informer  strained  his  eyes  to  peer  over  Egan's 
shoulder,  just  as  though  he  hadn't  read  the  item  before. 

AIR  TRAFFIC  COMPANY  ORGANIZED 
BY  LOCAL  CAPITALISTS 

Plainfield  Keeps  up  With  World's  Progress  — 
and  Beats  Most  of  the  World  to  it. 

Incorporation  of  Air  Traffic  Company  with  capital  of 

$500,000  assures  Plainfield  a  prominent  niche 

in  history  of  aviation. 

s 

Announcement  is  made  this  morning  of  probably  the 
most  important  single  event  in  Plainfield  since  the  first 
railroad  line  was  completed.  Leading  citizens  of  Plain- 
field,  without  blare  of  trumpets,  have  for  the  past  six 
weeks  been  perfecting  arrangements  for  a  large  fleet 
of  airplanes,  each  capable  of  carrying  from  25  to  40 
passengers,  or  from  3,500  to  6,000  pounds  of  freight. 

With  the  assurance  that  these  planes  can  be  deliv- 
ered by  January  1,  the  pioneers  of  aerial  transport  in 
this  section  have  incorporated  the  Air  Traffic  Company, 
capitalized  at  $500,000.  It  is  understood  that  all  the 
stock  has  been  purchased  by  the  incorporators  for 
cash,  and  that  the  funds  are  on  deposit  in  this  city. 
A  bond  issue  of  $500,000  is  also  planned,  and  will  be 
underwritten  by  the  Citizens  Trust  Company  and  sold 
to  local  investors  exclusively. 

The  principal  officers  of  the  company  are:  Presi- 
dent, Stephen  W.  Luke,  president  of  the  Citizens  Tjnist 
Co. ;  Vice-Presidents,  Edward  W.  Richards,  vice-presi- 
dent of  the  Plainfield  Gear  Co.  and  of  the  High  Speed 


EGAN  219 

Shell  Co. ;  Charles  B.  Garverick,  president  of  the  Elec- 
tric Foundry  Company ;  Edwin  F.  Johansen,  president 
of  the  Wood  Products  Co. ;  and  two  technical  experts 
not  yet  named.  The  Secretary  will  be  B.  C.  Boyd, 
president  of  the  Plainfield  Times  Company;  and  the 
Treasurer,  H.  F.  Hoyt,  who  for  this  purpose  has  re- 
signed the  treasurership  of  the  Plainfield  Motor  Car 
Co.  The  directors  will  be  the  officers  and,  in  addition, 
Martin  Henderson  of  Dayton  and  Plainfield  (chair- 
man), S.  W.  King  of  the  Herald,  and  others. 

In  an  interview  given  last  night  to  a  Herald  re- 
porter, Mr.  Luke  said :  "  Scores  of  concerns  will  be 
organized  during  the  coming  year  to  establish  aerial 
transport  lines.  We  believe  that  the  great  speed  of 
the  airplane  makes  it  a  valuable  means  of  transporta- 
tion, and  that  people  will  be  glad  to  pay  extra  to  have 
their  packages  delivered  in  half  or  one-third  the  time 
required  by  other  means  of  transportation. 

"  It  has  been  estimated  that  aerial  express  could  be 
carried  profitably  at  a  charge  of  $2  per  pound  for  pack- 
ages of  a  given  size  between  New  York  and  Chicago. 
We  propose  to  carry  packages  not  to  exceed  50  pounds 
in  weight  at  20  cents  a  pound  per  hundred  miles  or 
fraction  thereof.  Immediate  service  will  be  provided 
between  Plainfield,  Dayton,  Cleveland,  Cincinnati,  Chi- 
cago, Columbus  and  other  large  centres  within  a  ra- 
dius of  1,000  miles.  The  size  of  our  fleet  means  reg- 
ular and  frequent  schedules  and  prompt  delivery.  Pas- 
sengers will  be  carried  at  rates  to  be  announced  later." 

Mr.  Richards,  operating  vice-president,  said :  "  Our 
planes,  which  are  of  the  general  type  known  as  the 
Handley-Page,  will  make  Chicago  in  less  than  three 
hours,  against  nine  by  rail.  They  are  costing  us 
$17,000  apiece.  The  life  of  the  motors,  if  run  throt- 
tled down,  is  over  500  hours  of  flying,  but  the  life  of 


220  EGAN 

the  plane  itself  is  greater.  Depreciation  will  therefore 
not  be  serious.  We  are  sure  we  can  keep  our  traffic 
down,  and  still  make  a  good  profit.  If  the  public 
wants  to  know  why  it  costs  so  much  to  run  an  airplane, 
and  why  our  charges  are  therefore  so  high,  it  costs 
about  46  cents  a  mile  for  a  mighty  small  one.  The 
two  low-compression  Liberty  engines  on  our  planes,  and 
other  expense*,  will  make  it  cost  us  about  66  cents. 
Upkeep  is  the  big  item,  and  not  fuel.  You  get  four  to 
seven  miles  per  gallon.  Salaries  of  mechanics,  repairs 
and  replacements  are  what  eat  up  the  profits." 

Mr.  Hoyt,  Treasurer  of  the  new  company,  said: 
"  I  have  nothing  to  say  except  that  this  triumph  is  due 
to  the  energy  and  imagination  of  one  man  of  whom 
Plainfield  ought  to  be  proud,  and  I  regret  that  his  name 
is  not  connected  with  the  company  except  as  a  stock- 
holder. All  I  can  say  is  that  this  is  the  modesty  of 
true  greatness." 

Mr.  Henderson,  chairman  of  the  Board,  said :  "  I 
first  became  interested  in  this  subject  by  an  editorial 
in  the  New  York  Tribtme.  It  told  me  that  you  could 
go  from  London  to  Paris  on  schedule  time  for  $75, 
and  that  the  company  was  actually  making  money. 
I  found  that  with  aerodromes  only  a  hundred  miles 
apart,  commercial  flying  is  almost  as  safe  as  walking; 
and  if  your  planes  are  bi-motored,  it  is  safer  yet.  All 
our  planes  will  be  bi-motored.  If  one  motor  stalls,  the 
other  can  pull  through  with  no  more  delay  than  the 
average  railroad  train.  In  cold  weather,  passengers 
can  wear  the  same  kind  of  electrically  heated  clothing 
that  aviators  have  worn  for  the  last  two  years.  I  be- 
lieve this  is  a  tremendous  thing,  and  I  am  glad  to  be 
connected  with  it,  and  to  help  give  Plainfield  a  modem 
industry." 

The  temporary  offices  of  the  company  will  be  on  the 


EGAN  221 

6th  floor  of  the  Times  building.  The  local  landing  field 
will  be  on  the  old  Rigby  farm  adjoining  the  Fair 
grounds.  Title  to  this  property  has  not  yet  passed, 
but  an  option  on  it  was  obtained  some  time  ago,  and  will 
promptly  be  exercised.  The  purchase  price  is  said  to 
be  $30,000  for  150  acres.  Buildings  will  be  con- 
structed by  the  Plainfield  Construction  Corporation 
which  is  now  engaged  in  completing  the  Sanford  trolley 
line. 

A  large  force  of  clerical  employes  will  be  required, 
and  Mr.  B.  C.  Boyd,  Secretary  of  the  Company,  states 
that  all  applicants  should  refer  directly  to  him.  Me- 
chanics, riggers,  testers,  trouble-shooters  and  labour- 
ers should  apply  to  the  office  of  the  operating  vice- 
president.  Positions  in  all  grades  of  labour  will  be 
open  in  seven  cities  simultaneously. 

It  is  understood  that  applications  for  positions  as 
pilots  and  assistant  pilots  will  not  be  received,  as  the 
company  has  made  the  necessary  arrangements  through 
the  Department  of  Military  Aeronautics  to  secure  hon- 
ourably discharged  pilots  of  the  Army  Air  Service  for 
this  purpose. 

Not  only  as  a  civic  duty,  but  also  as  a  source  of  high 
enjojTnent,  loyal  Plainfielders  are  urged  to  book  space 
for  early  flights.  Take  a  trip  to  Chicago  by  air  —  as 
safe  as  sitting  in  a  rocking-chair.  Send  your  express 
parcels,  and  especially  perishable  goods,  by  air  — 
quick,  cheap,  and  certain.  Support  this  most  imagi- 
native of  Plainfield's  industries,  and  watch  Plainfield 
grow ! 

Egan,  whose  hands  had  shaken  a  trifle  as  he  first 
grasped  the  entire  purport  of  the  article,  finished  it 
stone-cold.     His  jaw  was  set  hard,  and  his  eyes  were 


222  EGAN 

round  and  staring.  The  fear  of  rivalry  had  always 
been  with  him,  but  it  had  never  been  a  really  penetrating 
fear. 

It  wouldn't  have  been  half  so  astounding  to  him  if 
some  organization  of  technical  men  had  come  into  this 
field.  Indeed,  his  fears  had  been  based  upon  the  as- 
sumption that  only  technical  experts  would  come  into 
it  at  all.  He  had  comforted  himself  with  the  assurance 
that  his  own  data,  his  own  experience,  his  own  mission- 
ary work  in  Plainfield  would  at  least  give  him  a  pleas- 
ant entree  to  such  an  organization,  if  one  arose  against 
him.  The  last  thing  he  had  anticipated  was  that  local 
magnates,  unskilled  in  the  science  of  aerial  navigation 
or  of  aircraft  production,  would  plunge  into  action 
without  even  consulting  him  —  without  even  including 
him. 

The  shock  was  less  to  his  hope  than  to  his  pride.  He 
had  fancied  that  he  knew  more  about  aviation  than  any 
one  in  Plainfield.  He  had  assumed  that  he  was  quite 
capable  of  building  and  directing  a  great  organization 
—  he  didn't  assume  it  on  the  basis  of  any  profound 
ability ;  on  the  contrary,  he  thought  it  was  too  easy. 
It  had  been  the  sort  of  dream  which  every  college  senior 
practises  in  silence,  or  confesses  towards  midnight  be- 
fore an  open  fire.  A  golden  dream  of  generalizations, 
with  all  the  practical  details  left  for  some  one  else  to 
trip  over,  pick  up,  and  stagger  under. 

Of  a  sudden,  he  was  stricken  by  a  flashing  concep- 
tion of  his  own  youth.  It  was  exactly  what  his  pros- 
pective clients  had  been  saying,  but  he  had  discounted  it. 
Youth !  Younger  even  than  youth  —  boyishness.  Four 
years  of  service  overseas  had  developed  him  not  the 


EGAN  223 

slightest  in  commercial  acumen.  It  had  merely  given 
him  an  external  veneering  of  metal.  That  veneering, 
still  capable  of  high  resistance  under  the  stress  of  his 
anger  when  he  came  home  to  find  his  hopes  despotically 
abolished,  had  gradually  eroded  as  he  passed  from  a 
mihtary  to  a  civilian  state  of  mind.  Successive  reve- 
lations of  his  unimportance  to  the  community  had  weak- 
ened his  defence.  He  still  had  physical  courage  in 
abundance,  he  still  had  all  the  fighting  instincts  of  his 
race,  but  in  learning  how  to  control  them,  he  had  nec- 
essarily had  to  learn  when  he  was  beaten. 

He  was  beaten  now,  and  he  knew  it.  There  was  no 
possible  counter-attack.  He  was  utterly  helpless  in  the 
face  of  this  immeasurably  superior  power.  It  wasn't 
simply  the  money  barrier,  it  was  organization.  Money 
meant  comparatively  little  to  him;  organization  was 
everything.  He  couldn't  fight  the  unified  capitalists  of 
Plainfield. 

The  shock  made  him  dizzy  for  just  a  moment.  It 
had  wiped  out  both  his  standing  place  and  his  perspec- 
tive. His  thoughts,  following  along  those  mysterious 
lines  of  suggestion  which  no  one  will  ever  comprehend, 
or  can  ever  resist,  gave  him  a  mental  picture  of  a  gi- 
gantic bubble,  shimmering  blue  and  silver  in  the  sun- 
light, and  then  collapsing  in  a  lightning  stroke,  and 
floating  off  in  a  burst  of  silver  spray  for  a  single  sec- 
ond before  the  smallest  fragments  disappeared,  and  left 
nothing.  The  bubble  brought  up  the  swift  image  of  an 
observation  balloon  which  he  had  seen  shot  down  im 
France.  The  observer  had  promptly  gone  over  the 
side,  and  the  Fokker  victor  had  spiralled  down  around 
the  parachute,  shooting  at  the  helpless  target  adrift. 


£24j  EGAN 

That  was  up  in  the  Argonne.  Damned  unpleasant 
place  —  Argonne.  Egan  had  flown  there  in  the  early 
days  when  the  life  of  the  average  pilot  was  two  hours 
in  the  air.  It  was  cold.  Also  muddy.  You  stick  in  it 
like  glue.  Once  he  had  got  himself  mired  in  a  camion, 
going  back  to  rest  biUets.  The  harder  they  tried  to 
get  out,  the  deeper  they  got  in.  History  repeats  it- 
self.    He  was  mired  in  failure. 

HJe  heard  his  own  voice  speaking.     "  No,"  he  said, 
"  that's  not  my  company.     That's  something  new." 
"  Is  it  indeed.     Then  does  that  mean  — " 
"  It  means,"  said  Egan,  "  that   Fm  through.  .  .  . 
Can  I  have  that  paper.''     Thank  you." 

The  older  man  must  have  thought  him  very  rude,  but 
Egan  had  no  thought  of  courtesies.  All  he  thought  of 
was  to  reach  Judge  Perkins  as  soon  as  he  could.  Per- 
kins or  Adams  or  Johnny  Jones.  Adams  was  the  man 
he  reached  first. 

At  the  end  of  the  hour,  the  journalist  tossed  away 
his  cigar  and  looked  Egan  straight  in  the  eyes. 

"  I  see  the  Interurban  Trolley  wants  some  outdoor 
men  for  gang-bosses,"  said  Adams.  "  Chance  to  rise, 
and  all  that.  It  beats  inside  work  all  to  pieces  for  a 
man  like  you,  Bronson.     Good  pay,  too.     Four  a  day." 

Egan  drew  a  long,  shuddering  breath.  "  That's  bet- 
ter than  being  bossed  around  by  an  anaemic  little  mutt 
in  an  alpaca  coat  in  somebody's  office,"  he  said. 


XIX 

IN  the  library  of  the  new  Kent  homestead,  the  laird 
of  the  manor  and  Eddie  Macklin  had  almost  worn 
a  trail  in  the  carpet  around  the  mahogany  centre 
table.  In  the  first  instance,  it  was  Macklin  who  had 
done  the  walking,  while  Kent  sat  listening  and  digesting 
and  judging.  Presently,  the  two  had  been  on  their 
feet  at  once.  Lately,  Macklin  had  sulked  in  a  chair 
while  Mr.  Kent  became  peripatetic,  and  diffuse. 

"  But  merciful  heavens,  man !  *'  said  Kent  for  the 
dozenth  time,  **  what  were  you  ever  thinking  about? 
Why  couldn't  you  keep  your  wits  about  you?  As  if 
you  didn't  know  that  a  man  in  your  position  mustn't 
stub  his  toes  !  " 

Macklin,  freshly  sublimated  at  the  recollection,  held 
up  his  hand  for  mercy.  **  Kent,  I  give  you  ray 
word  — " 

"  Don't  bother !  Haven't  I  said  already  I  believe 
you?  Those  things  do  happen.  But  you  and  I,  as 
men  of  the  world,  take  a  different  slant  on  it  from  what 
some  other  people  may.  You  know  what  campaign 
dope  is,  and  you  know  what  other  women  are.  I  can't 
answer  for  what  Maryll  think.  And  you've  got  four 
people  to  reckon  with  —  the  two  McCains  and  Adams 
and  Pennypacker."  He  halted,  impatient.  "  But 
what  gets  rne  — " 

"  You  don't  need  to  say  it  all  over  again,"  said 
Macklin  wearily.  **  They've  simply  got  us  up  a  blind 
alley.  They  haven't  doTie  anything;  they  haven't  said 
anything.     All  that's  happened  is  that  Adams  came  in 

225 


226  EGAN 

my  own  office  and  showed  me  a  photograph  of  a  draw- 
ing. He  didn't  make  any  threat  at  all.  And  you  see 
where  that  leaves  me.  I  don't  know  what  his  idea  is. 
If  I  try  to  buy  the  darned  thing,  he  can  use  that  against 
us.  And  if  I  don't,  he  can  use  the  picture.  And  he's 
got  a  job  on  the  Herald  now,  and  that's  against  us, 
anyway." 

Kent  stood  by  the  window,  crumpling  the  curtain. 
"  The  one  sensible  thing  you've  done  is  to  come  and  tell 
me,  like  a  man.  The  next  thing  is  for  you  to  tell  Mary. 
If  you  don't,  and  she  gets  any  rumour  about  it,  you 
know  what  it's  likely  to  be  —  they'll  make  a  regular  as- 
sault out  of  it." 

"I  —  suppose  you're  right,  but  — " 

"  But  think,  man,  think  of  the  slogan  they  can  get  up 
about  you  in  November.  They  killed  a  man's  chances 
ten  years  ago  just  by  calling  him  *  Silk-Hat  Harry.' 
Ridicule's  the  sharpest  sword  there  is  —  and  I  wouldn't 
guarantee  that  your  own  organization  would  try  to 
push  you  ahead  of  any  evidence  as  strong  as  that.  Be- 
cause it  would  kill  you  permanently,  and  weaken  the 
organization  for  a  long  time  if  they  tried  it  and  lost." 

"  Oh,  don't !  "  said  Macklin  miserably. 

Kent  sat  down.  He  was  angry,  but  not  so  com- 
pletely angry  that  he  could  disregard  the  farcical  side 
of  Macklin's  dilemma.  "  How  can  we  stop  their 
mouths.'*  Those  four.**  And  prevent  it  from  going 
any  further  —  and  undo  anything  they  may  have  done 
so  far?" 

"  We  can  stop  the  McCains',  possibly." 

«  Well,  how?  " 

**  I'm  pretty  sure  Mrs.  McCain  hasn't  talked  to  any- 


EGAN  227 

body  yet.  If  she  had,  I'd  have  heard  of  it  before  this 
—  or  Mary  would.  Those  things  travel.  I've  got  her 
scared  to  death  on  the  stock  deal;  the  only  question  is 
how  long  her  scare'll  last.  And  from  what  Adams  said, 
I  don't  believe  he's  even  discussed  it  with  the  McCains 
yet.  But  if  I  could  go  to  Mrs.  McCain,  and  have  her 
assign  me  her  stock  and  pay  her  something  in  real 
money  for  it  — " 

"  Wouldn't  that  make  her  worse  yet .''  " 

**  I  don't  think  so.  I  hncne  it  wouldn't.  It  would 
clinch  the  thing  for  ever.  She'd  be  happy  to  get  a  few 
thousand  dollars.  She  isn't  making  expenses.  And  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  I  took  the  liberty  of  hinting  to  her 
that  same  day  that  we  might  make  some  sort  of  dicker 
.  .  .  that  is,  if  you  think  it's  worth  trying." 

"  It's  not  worth  a  ver\'  great  deal."  Kent  pondered. 
**  But  it  might  be  a  wise  idea  to  offer  her  something,  es- 
pecially as  the  Egan  receiver  tells  me  the  schedule  looks 
better  than  it  did  a  while  ago.  The  stockholders  may 
eventually'  get  twelve  or  fifteen  per  cent.  I  suppose  we 
could  offer  her  five  thousand  now.  Or  —  we  might  in- 
ject some  human  interest  into  it.  Would  it  be  any 
stronger  if  you  went  to  her,  offered  to  buy  the  stock 
for  twenty-five  hundred  flat  and  —  just  to  show  your 
sympathy  and  j'our  willingness  to  make  amends,  and  all 
that  sort  of  rot, —  told  her  that  you'd  be  glad  to  send 
the  child  to  some  Eastern  boarding  school  for  a  couple 
of  years?  That  wouldn't  cost  much.  And  it  would 
get  the  little  girl  out  of  the  way,  too." 

"She'd  fall,"  said  Mackliii  confidently.  "They'd 
both  fall.  And  you  could  buy  Pennypacker  with  a 
couple  of  hundred  dollars.     But  you've  got  to  make  a 


228  EGAk 

clean  sweep  of  the  whole  crowd,  or  there's  no  use  trying 
it.  That's  why  I  came  to  you  without  doing  any  mis- 
sionary work  myself  first.  You  can't  reach  Adams 
with  money." 

Kent  began  to  scowl.  "  I  can  reach  him  with  some- 
thing else,  though.  We'll  see  him  together.  I'm  not  wor- 
ried about  Adams.     I'm  worried  about  these  women." 

The  younger  man  had  to  be  content.  "  Then  I'll  see 
Mrs.  McCain  tomorrow,  shall  I?  And  I'll  go  to 
Adams  with  you  any  time  you  say.  Now,  about  elec- 
tion.    If  I  should  lose — " 

Kent  smiled  meaningly. 

"  If  I  were  you,  I  shouldn't  lose." 

"  Oh,  but  I  might.  There's  always  that  possibility. 
That's  what  we're  talking  about,  isn't  it?  Then  do  I 
get  the  job  of  general  counsel  for  Air  Traffic  as  well  as 
the  Kent  — " 

"  You're  mistaken,  Eddie.  You  can't  lose.  If  you 
do,  there's  nothing  left.  You  can  see  that,  can't  you  ?  " 
Kent  shook  his  head  gently.  His  eyes  were  kindly, 
but  his  jaw  was  wicked. 

Macklin  wiped  his  forehead,  and  there  was  a  short 
silence.     "  That's  a  little  sudden,  isn't  it?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so,  particularly.  You've  intelligence 
enough  to  understand  facts.  The  only  way  you  can 
be  very  useful  to  us  is  as  city  attorney,  or  mayor.  Of 
course,  I'd  do  all  I  could  for  you,  privately,  and  you'd 
make  good  money,  but  those  jobs  you  speak  of  aren't 
for  life-nets.  They're  for  an  ^j^-mayor,  perhaps,  but 
not  for  a  beaten  candidate.  Up  to  a  few  weeks  ago, 
you  had  a  walkover.  I'm  giving  you  something  to  hush 
up  this  present  mess.     But  if  that  gets  out,  and  Hen- 


\ 


EGAN  229 

derson  cuts  loose  at  the  same  time  and  you  fall  down, 
why,  we  can't  afford  to  do  a  great  deal  for  you  politi- 
cally.    That's  axiomatic,  isn't  it  ?  " 

Macklin  writhed  involuntarily.  "  I'll  do  my  best, 
Colonel." 

*'  I  know  you  will.  We'd  better  go  out  now,  I  think. 
Somebody's  come  to  call.     I  heard  voices,  anyhow." 

Neither  of  them  was  overjoyed  to  find  that  one  of 
the  voices  was  Bronson  Egan's. 

During  the  interval  before  her  father  and  her  fiance 
appeared,  Mary  had  still  further  threatened  Egan's 
balance.  This  was  because,  in  a  very  docile  mood,  she 
had  brought  back  to  him  a  vivid  recollection  of  what 
formerly  she  had  been  to  him.  In  this  mood,  she  was 
adorable.  To  her  strictly  personal  charms  she  had 
added  a  coat  of  sympathy  which  was  becoming  and  se- 
ductive. She  had  always  liked  Egan,  and  tonight, 
when  he  was  so  patently  in  need  of  her  encouragement, 
she  liked  him  better  than  ever. 

**  That  was  terribly  too  bad  about  the  Fair,"  she 
said.  "  I  almost  cried  when  I  read  it  in  the  Times. 
And  I  always  wanted  to  ride  in  an  airplane,  Bronson." 

To  Egan,  unexpectedly  finding  her  in  this  relenting 
mood,  the  occasion  was  peculiarly  moving.  His  life  in 
Plainfield,  since  his  release  from  the  Army,  had  been 
highly  emotional.  He  had  gone  through  three  months 
of  strong  reactions  such  as  a  man  might  have  who  shoots 
the  Lachine  Rapids  in  a  canoe.  Then  the  river  of  his 
life  had  widened,  and  slowed.  This  quiet,  friendly  con- 
versation with  Mary  had  swung  him  into  a  lazy  whirl- 
pool, reminiscent  of  the  rapids,  but  not  so  stimulating. 


230  EGAN 

He  was  excessively  grateful  to  her ;  and  he  had  no  rea- 
son to  suppose  that  she  was  very  sorry  for  him. 

"  You  will  yet." 

"  Just  once.  Once  is  all  I  want.  .  .  .  You  don't 
really  believe  Eddie  had  anything  to  do  with  putting 
you  out  of  it,  do  you  ?  Because  he  hadn't  —  honestly. 
He  feels  you  think  he  did.  But  it  isn't  true.  Please 
believe  it  isn't." 

"  I'd  just  as  soon,"  said  Egan.  "  In  fact,  I'd 
rather." 

"  Do  you  like  what  you're  doing  for  the  Trolley 
Company,  Bronson  ?  " 

"  Pretty  well.  It's  handling  men,  and  that's  always 
good  practice.  And  it's  sort  of  interesting,  too.  You 
aren't  dealing  with  anything  fixed ;  you've  got  a  human 
equation.  Some  men  get  two  or  three  times  as  much 
work  out  of  a  gang  as  other  men  can.  It's  manage- 
ment. And  there's  going  to  be  an  enormous  lot  of  con- 
struction work  in  the  next  ten  years.  I  think  it's  good 
experience." 

"  Better  than  going  with  Father?  " 

«  Yes,  I  think  so." 

**  It  certainly  isn't  very  exclusive,  I  shouldn't  think." 
Her  voice  was  less  critical  than  her  words,  for  in  real- 
ity, she  was  impressed  by  his  independence. 

"  Neither  would  I.  But  it's  out  of  doors,  and  it's 
«ort  of  rough.  I  don't  suppose  you  can  understand 
why  I  like  that.  But  the  pleasure  of  getting  dirty 
£)gain,  and  feeling  that  you've  done  something  that's 
fundamental  and  real — " 

"  You  don't  actually  do  any  digging  yourself,  I 
hope." 


EGAN  231 

"No  —  just  boss,  rm  head  of  a  gang  of  about 
forty  of  the  loveliest  wops  you  ever  saw.  Of  course,  I 
don't  pretend  I  like  it  better  than  doing  what  I'd  hoped 
to  do,  but  out  there  in  the  sun  and  wind,  it  — " 

"  I  was  sorry  about  the  Air  Traffic  Company,  too," 
she  said.  "  But  I  don't  suppose  that  could  be  helped, 
either.  If  Father  had  anything  to  do  with  it,  of  course 
you  could  have  a  splendid  place  there,  and  one  that 
would  just  suit  you.     But  he  hasn't." 

Egan  was  honestly  glad  to  hear  it.  "  Do  you  know 
if  Martha's  father  started  it,  then .''  " 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  door  of  the  library 
had  opened  and  Kent  and  Macklin  emerged. 

"What's  that  that  Martha's  father  started?"  in- 
quired Kent,  as  he  shook  hands. 

Egan  nodded  politely  to  Macklin. 

*'  We  were  talking  about  Air  Traffic,  sir.'* 

"  Oh,  yes."  Kent  was  locating  a  box  of  cigars. 
"Try  one  of  these.''  .  .  .  Well,  sir,  that  man  has  had 
enough  of  Dayton  —  too  much,  I  guess  —  so  he's  com- 
ing over  here.     Had  you  heard  that.?  " 

"  Not  —  permanently?  " 

"  So  they  say.  If  your  father  had  lived,  and  I 
hadn't  been  in  Washington  these  last  two  years,  he 
couldn't  have  got  a  foothold  here  to  save  his  life. 
Neither  of  us  could  stand  him  for  a  second.  Martha's 
a  friend  of  Mary's,  and  that's  all.  Why,  it  seems  that 
he's  negotiating  for  some  land  to  build  a  tremendous 
plant  on,  and  move  his  business  over  here.  I  under- 
stand he's  quietly  bought  up  interests  in  seven  or  eight 
different  small  concerns  to  use  as  feeders.  And  he's 
getting  prices  on  houses  in  this  section  —  I  know  that 


232  EGAN 

for  a  fact.  He's  a  fast  worker,  too,  when  he  gets 
steam  up.  He'd  get  up  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning 
any  time  to  put  something  over  on  the  fellow  who  sleeps 
'til  quarter  past." 

Egan  abruptly  recalled  the  occasion  of  their  first 
meeting.  **  I  know  he  would,"  he  said.  "  I  remember 
hearing  that  once  last  fall  he  jumped  a  milk-train  from 
Dayton  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  rather  than 
wait  — "  He  broke  off  to  stare  at  Macklin,  who  had 
emitted  a  curious  sound  from  his  throat. 

"It's  all  right,"  said  Macklin.  "Swallowed  the 
wron^  way.  Ha-ha!  Go  on,  Bronson.  Sorry  I  in- 
terrupted." 

"  It  was  nothing  but  an  illustration,"  said  Egan. 

"  Go  ahead  with  the  rest  of  it,"  urged  Kent,  with  a 
glance  for  Macklin. 

"  There  isn't  any  more,"  said  Egan,  and  he  also 
glanced  at  Macklin,  and  saw  something  to  remember. 

"  But  you  weren't  here  last  fall.  You  were  in 
France." 

"  Oh,  a  man  told  me  about  it  on  a  train,"  said  Egan. 
He  laughed  spontaneously.  "  Very  interesting  chap. 
His  name  was  Fednberg.  Not  that  his  name  makes  any 
particular  difference  — " 

"  Hm."  Kent  was  absorbed  with  his  finger-nails. 
"  How  are  they  treating  you  out  at  Sanford,  Bron- 
son?" 

"  Mighty  well,  thank  you." 

"  Not  many  men  like  you  would  have  had  the  nerve 
to  go  into  that  sort  of  work,  after  the  education  you 
had." 


EGAN  233 

"  It  was  partly  to  deliver  me  from  mj  friends,"  said 
Egan,  laughing. 

"And  the  other  part?" 

"  Six  dollars  a  day.     I'm  paying  off  my  debts." 

Kent  looked  at  him  queerly.  The  confession  was 
remarkably  unlike  Egan. 

As  Egan  rose  to  depart  Macklin  rose  with  him.  "  I*d 
better  be  running  along,  too,"  he  observed. 

"  No  —  stay  a  while,"  said  Kent,  elaborately  care- 
less.    Mackhn  stayed. 

On  a  later  evening  of  the  same  week,  the  two  Hender- 
sons, father  and  daughter,  came  sympathetically  closer 
to  each  other  than  they  had  ever  been  before ;  and  yet, 
specifically,  they  weren't  on  common  ground  at  all. 

For  the  first  time  in  a  decade,  Martha  had  shed  un- 
explained tears.  Henderson,  endeavouring  to  console 
her,  found  himself  helpless. 

"  If  you'd  only  tell  me,"  he  repeated,  smoothing  her 
hair,  "  maybe  I  could  do  something,  Martie." 

"  N-nothing,"  she  sobbed  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Women  in  my  family  don't  cry  for  nothing." 

"  Y-yes  they  do,  too,"  she  insisted  loyally. 

"  If  it's  any  of  that  infernal  Kent  tribe  — "  Mr. 
Henderson  had  noted  her  receipt  of  a  letter  with  the 
Rainfield  postmark. 

"  Don't  —  it  isn't  that !  —  you  mustn't  say  those 
things  — " 

His  touch  became  as  femininely  gentle  as  he  could 
make  it.  "  Or  if  it's  anything  to  do  with  that  Egan 
boy  — " 


234.  EGAN 

"  No  —  not  that,  either  — " 

"  Well,  what  the  mischief  is  it,  then?  I  can't  do  you 
much  good  until  you  tell  me  what  the  matter  is,  can  I?  " 

She  could  hardly  tell  him  that  it  was  the  triple  com- 
bination of  Macklin  and  Mary ;  Mary  and  Egan ;  Egan 
and  herself. 

Mary  had  written  her  a  piteous  little  note  in  which 
there  were  almost  as  many  hints  of  quarrels  and  mis- 
understandings with  her  fiance  and  her  father  as  there 
were  punctuation  marks.  And  the  letter  had  re- 
lated startling  facts  about  Egan.  Egan  had  sold  his 
runabout  at  a  ruinous  sacrifice  to  Henry  Luke,  re- 
signed from  his  clubs,  vanished  from  society,  and  taken 
a  position  so  menial  that  his  old  friends  spoke  of  it  in 
horrified  undertones.  But  Mary  thought  that  he  was  a 
perfect  wonder  to  stand  on  his  own  feet  like  that,  and 
didn't  Martha  agree  with  her? 

"What  do  you  —  think  about  Eddie  Macklin?" 
managed  Martha  with  some  effort. 

"  That  bird?  He's  a  weak  sister.  Wouldn't  trust 
him  around  the  corner.     What's  he  got  to  do  with  — " 

**  Oh,  nothing,  nothing ! "  said  Martha,  wretchedly. 

It  shocked  her  beyond  expression  to  realize  that  un- 
less her  friend  patched  up  these  quarrels  and  misun- 
derstandings, and  married  the  bird  that  Henderson 
wouldn't  trust  around  the  comer,  Martha  herself  had 
probably  seen  the  last  of  Egan.  She  knew  that  it  was 
wicked  to  hope  that  the  quarrels  would  be  patched  up. 
For  if  they  weren't,  four  different  people,  two  now  and 
two  later,  were  going  to  be  disappointed  in  love.  That 
was  what  she  was  crying  about. 


XX 

FOR  many  days  of  high  compression,  Mrs.  Mc- 
Cain had  kept  her  lips  tight  shut  on  a  subject 
very  near  to  her,  but  when,  out  of  a  clear  sky,  a 
gift  from  the  Greeks  came  tumbling  into  her  lap,  she 
felt  herself  physically  unable  to  continue  her  silence 
longer.  Macklin  had  been  her  counsellor.  His  dere- 
liction meant  that  she  had  no  one  to  advise  her.  Her 
distrust  of  him,  now  too  well  grounded  to  be  shaken, 
extended  even  to  the  philanthropy  which  he  had  so  un- 
expectedly offered  her. 

The  loss  of  her  counsellor  made  her  doubly  depend- 
ent upon  counsel.  She  needed  to  pour  out  to  some  one 
the  tale  of  all  her  relations  with  him,  before  she  could 
sleep  of  nights.  Until  recently,  she  had  gone  no  fur- 
ther than  to  despise  him  and  mistrust  him ;  but  when  he 
came  to  her  to  offer  reparation,  she  was  afraid.  Her 
fear  was  multiplied  by  his  insistence  that  there  was  no 
necessity  of  it.  And  because  she  began  also  to  be  afraid 
of  herself,  she  cast  about  her  for  a  substitute  for  Mack- 
lin, and  chose  the  Honourable  George  Perkins. 

A  dozen  times  she  planned  exactly  how  she  would 
approach  him.  She  rehearsed  her  introduction.  She 
devised  stealthy  little  ways  of  exonerating  herself,  in 
case  it  should  appear  that  she  had  done  wrong.  She 
put  off  the  interview  as  though  it  had  been  an  appoint- 
ment with  a  dentist.  She  gathered  plenty  of  courage 
at  impossible  times  and  places,  only  to  lose  it  as  soon 

as  she  met  Perkins  face  to  face.     She  wasn't  afraid  of 

235 


236  EGAN 

the  Honourable  George ;  she  was  afraid  of  Macklin  — 
and  of  herself. 

She  could  have  cornered  the  Judge  after  breakfast 
any  morning,  but  when  she  finally  did  conquer  her  reti- 
cence, she  preferred  to  go  to  him  at  his  office.  At  the 
first  glance,  he  could  see  that  he  had  a  client  for  a 
landlady. 

"  I'm  in  trouble,  Judge  Perkins." 

The  Judge  had  risen,  and  bowed  her  to  a  chair.  Now 
he  sat  down  opposite  her,  bending  forward  interroga- 
tively, and  with  immense  kindness. 

"  Well,  that's  too  bad !  Suppose  you  tell  me  what 
it's  all  about." 

Mrs.  McCain's  fingers  were  weaving  ceaselessly. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  Judge.  ...  I  don't  know 
what  to  do.  It  isn't  for  me  —  I'm  thinking  of  Milly. 
What  that  girl's  had  to  suffer !  I  don't  know  anything 
about  these  things  ...  I  —  I  hope  there's  nothing 
wrong."  Her  little  laugh  of  deprecation  was  hollow. 
"  You  see,  Mr.  Macklin  isn't  advising  me  any  more, 
since  —  well,  for  quite  some  time.  It's  so  hard  to  un- 
derstand these  things  alone.  I've  always  had  some- 
body —  Mr.  McCain,  and  then  Mr.  Macklin  — " 

The  judge  waited  patiently. 

"  It's  about  this  —  one  day  a  year  ago  Mr.  Macklin 
came  to  me.  He  knew  I  had  some  money  in  the  sav- 
ings bank.  He  told  me  there  was  some  stock  in  the 
Egan  Company  for  sale,  very  cheap.  It  would  pay 
four  or  five  times  as  much  as  the  savings  bank  would,  he 
said.  He  said —  Well,  we  all  know  what  the  Egan 
Company  zoos.  He  said  he  was  buying  some  himself. 
So  I  said  I'd  give  him  fifteen  thousand  dollars  and  .  .  . 


EGAN  237 

and  finally  he  persuaded  rae  I  ought  to  put  everything 
I  had  in  it,  and  I  did.  It  was  about  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars. I'd  been  getting  almost  forty  dollars  a  week 
from  the  bank.  I  thought  I  was  going  to  make  a  hun- 
dred. I  trusted  him  so.  He  told  me  over  and  over  I 
shouldn't  mention  it  to  a  soul  —  it  was  some  sort  of  in- 
fluence that  let  him  get  it  so  cheap,  and  there  might 
be  bad  feeling,  and,  maybe  —  you  see,  I  don't  under- 
stand those  things.  I  hope  there  wasn't  anything 
wrong,  Judge  Perkins." 

"  Don't  you  fret  a  mite,"  said  the  Honourable  George 
soothingly.     "  Don't  you  fret  a  mite." 

She  sighed  cavemously.  *'  That  relieves  me  so  i 
Well  —  then  before  I'd  ever  got  any  dividend,  I  saw 
in  the  papers  the  Egan  Company  was  in  trouble.  I 
said  to  Mr.  Macklin,  '  What  shall  I  do  ?  '  He  said  to 
wait.  And  the  next  thing  I  know  the  company  had 
failed.  .  .  ."  She  clenched  her  hands.  "  I  asked  him 
how  much  I  could  get  for  my  stock.  He  said  I  couldn't 
get  anything.  He  said  he  was  ruined,  too.  He  said 
it  was  more  important  than  ever  I  shouldn't  tell.  I 
might  even  have  to  pai/  something  for  having  got  my 
stock  so  cheap,  through  his  influence.  At  least  I  think 
he  said  that.  I  was  too  sick  to  remember  very  much. 
I  didn't  have  any  money.  I  didn't  know  where  to  turn. 
Then  Mr.  Macklin  was  very  kind.  He  was  always 
very  kind.  He  got  me  the  house,  from  the  hospital,  and 
he  said  the  time  might  come  when  he'd  do  something  else 
for  me,  if  I'd  just  keep  quiet.  I'm  only  just  hardly 
getting  a  living  out  of  the  house  now.  I'd  have  lost 
money  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  boarders  Mr.  Macklin 
sent  me.     I  couldn't  pay  the  March  rent,  and  he  loaned 


2S8  EGAN 

me  the  money.  When  I  thought  of  maybe  having  to 
pay  something  on  that  stock  I  was  simply  crazy.  I 
didn't  know  what  they  could  do  to  me.  You  see,  I  don't 
understand  these  things  very  well.  Then  —  then  Mr. 
Macklin  .  .  .  You  see,  I  caught  him  ...  he  was  phi- 
landering with  Milly.  And  we  had  a  scene.  And  — 
and  then  he  came  back  the  other  day,  and  he  said  if  I 
wouldn't  say  anything  about  it,  he'd  pay  back  out  of 
his  own  pocket  a  little  of  the  money  I  lost,  and  forgive 
me  the  money  he  lent  me  in  March,  and  send  Milly  to 
boarding  school  for  two  years,  and  I  was  frightened, 
Judge  Perkins.  He  said  it  was  just  a  friendly  act  to 
show  he  was  thinking  of  me,  and  looking  after  my  in- 
terests, but  it  frightened  me.  So  —  I  thought  I'd  bet- 
ter come  and  tell  you  everything." 

"  Don't  you  fret  a  mite,"  said  the  Honourable  George 
gently,  although  his  brain  was  seething.  "  There's 
nothing  in  the  world  anybody's  going  to  do  to  you. 
Did  you  take  any  money  from  him.''  " 

"  Not  yet." 

"  Agree  to  take  any  ?  " 

"  He  —  he  may  have  thought  so." 

"  H'm !  Now,  how  did  you  buy  that  Egan  stock  in 
the  fiyst  place,  Mrs.  McCain.''  Did  you  go  to  the  auc- 
tion ?  ...  or  did  — " 

"  I  gave  Mr.  Macklin  the  money.  He  sent  me  a  cer- 
tificate for  it.  Five  hundred  shares.  He  said  it  was 
worth  at  least  three  times  what  I  paid  for  it." 

The  Judge  frowned,  and  the  widow  trembled. 

"  Just  one  thing  more :  Did  you  ever  sign  any  paper 
of  any  kind  in  connection  with  this  stock  ?  " 

"I    don't  — know-,- Wait."     She     thought     hard. 


EGAN  239 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  did.  A  little  piece  of  paper  about  some 
kind  of  a  meeting.  He  asked  me  to  sign  it.  I  think 
it  just  said  Mr.  Macklin  was  going  to  represent  me  at 
a  meeting,  or  something.  Yes,  I  remember  it  quite 
well." 

"  A  proxy .''  " 

"  That  was  it  —  a  proxy !  " 

The  judge's  smile  of  encouragement  was  more  than 
.paternal  —  it  was  patriarchal. 

"  There  wasn't  anything  wrong  about  that,  was 
there  .-^  "  she  asked  apprehensively. 

"  Not  a  thing."  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and 
made  a  tent  of  his  hands.  "  I'm  awful  sorry  you  didn't 
come  to  me  with  this,  first  thing.  You'd  have  saved 
yourself  a  lot  of  worry.  If  you've  told  me  all  there  is 
to  tell,  you  can  just  put  it  out  of  your  mind  for  good. 
Suppose  you  write  me  a  little  letter,  though,  and  say 
you  want  me  to  be  your  lawyer,  and  that  you  haven't 
any  other.  I'd  sort  of  like  to  have  it  with  me  in  case  I 
go  see  Eddie." 

Mrs.  McCain  gazed  blankly  at  him. 

"  Is  that  all  you  want  of  me.  Judge  Perkins.''  Isn't 
there  an}' thing  for  me  to  do  but  that .''  " 

"  That'll  be  quite  enough,"  said  the  Honourable 
George,  dryly  emphatic. 


XXI 

IT  was  with  swaying  sentiments  that  Martha  Hen- 
derson accompanied  her  father  to  Plainfield  in 
early  November.  Her  own  especial  reason  for 
coming  there  was  to  select  a  house  which  could  be 
bought,  or  rented,  for  occupancy  early  in  the  year; 
and  ordinarily  she  would  have  had  aU  a  normal  woman's 
pleasure  in  the  hunt.  Under  the  present  circumstances, 
she  was  more  than  apathetic,  for  she  didn't  know  that 
she  cared  to  live  in  Plainfield  at  all.  There  were  too 
many  old  acquaintances  she  would  be  embarrassed  to 
meet. 

Henderson  brought  her,  however,  to  the  best  suite  in. 
the  Plainfield  House,  and  for  two  days  fancied  that  she 
was  happy.  On  the  third  morning,  he  had  leisure 
enough  to  see  through  her  workmanlike  pretensions. 

"  What's  biting  you,  Martie  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  You 
act  as  if  somebody'd  run  off  with  your  smile.  Isn't 
tJiere  anything  that'll  put  it  back.'*  What's  on  your 
mind?" 

"  When  was  it,"  she  asked,  abstractedly,  "  that  you 
decided  to  go  into  that  air  business?  " 

"  Oh,  a  couple  of  months  ago.  What's  that  got  to 
do  with  it?" 

"  I  wish  you'd  told  me  then,  instead  of  letting  me  find 
it  out  from  the  newspapers." 

Henderson  shook  his  head  good-naturedly. 

**  In  the  first  place,  you  ought  to  know  by  this  time  I 

don't  bring  my  business  home  with  me ;  and,  in  the  sec- 

240 


EGAN  Ml 

ond  place,  I  don't  generally  ';eil  vvhat  I'm  going  to  do 
until  after  I've  done  it.  There  isn't  as  much  romance 
in  it  as  you'd  think.     Just  another  investment." 

"  Was  it  your  own  idea  ?  " 

"  Lord,  no !  I  don't  know  whose  it  was.  Richards 
was  the  man  who  sold  me  on  it." 

"  Is  Mr.  Egan  in  it  anyhow  ?  I  know  he  isn't  now, 
but  is  he  going  to  be?  " 

"  That's  one  too  many  for  me,  Martie.  I  haven't 
anything  to  do  with  personnel.  But  I  don't  seem  to 
remember  anybody  mentioning  him.     Why  ?  " 

Martha  looked  down.  "  Why,  nothing.  Only  his 
ambition  was  to  start  something  like  that  himself.  So 
I  took  it  for  granted  you'd  hare  him  in,  sooner  or  later." 

Henderson  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  the  scheme  he  was  mixed  up  in  wasn't  the  same 
sort  at  all.  He  was  going  to  do  something  or  other  at 
the  Plainfield  Fair,  but  — " 

"  He  wanted  an  express  company,  too.  He  was  try- 
ing to  raise  money  for  it.  And  "  —  she  looked  up,  none 
too  cheerily  —  "  and  he  asked  me  especially  not  to  men- 
tion it  to  you.  I  saw  Mary  Kent  this  afternoon ;  she 
thinks  you  were  the  man  who  began  it.  If  she  does, 
other  people  do.  Probably  he  does.  And  he's  work- 
ing out  on  the  Sanford  Trolley  line.  And  you  can  see 
what  position  that  puts  me  in,  can't  you.?  " 

Henderson  laughed.  "  Aren't  you  making  a  moun- 
tain out  of  a  molehill?  " 

"  No." 

Her  father  caught  the  overtone,  and  stopped  laugh- 
ing. 

"  You're  afraid  he'll  feel  as  though  you  gave  away  his 


242  EGAN 

bright  idea  ?  I  wouldn't  feel  that  way,  if  I  were  in  your 
place.  Anybody  on  earth  could  have  started  that  com- 
pany —  or  any  other.  He's  got  more  sense  than  to 
feel  that  way." 

"  It  isn't  only  that,"  she  said ;  "  but  he  oughtn't  to 
have  been  left  out.  He'd  collected  the  most  wonderful 
information  you  ever  saw,  and  he  had  costs  and  every- 
thing all  figured  out,  and  he's  a  splendid  sort  of  man 
besides  —  and  a  flyer  —  and  he's  used  to  controlling 
other  men,  and  he's  from  Plainfield  and  everybody  knows 
him  —  why,  you've  just  got  to  have  him !  " 

Henderson  had  become  as  serious  as  his  daughter. 
"  It  does  look  as  though  he'd  be  valuable.  But  Old 
Man  Egan  and  I  were  as  friendly  as  two  strange  bull- 
dogs. Nobody's  fault  —  we  simply  didn't  get  along. 
The  boy  inherited  the  idea  that  I'm  a  bad  actor.  If  I 
should  ever  make  him  any  proposition,  it  might  have 
just  the  wrong  effect." 

"  Well  ?  Suppose  it  did .''  It  wouldn't  hurt  you  to 
make  it,  would  it  ?  " 

He  gazed  searchingly  at  her.  "  Don't  care  whether 
you  make  a  martyr  out  of  your  Dad  or  not,  do  you?  " 

*'  We  owe  him  something." 

"/do?     How's  that?" 

"  Not  you." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Henderson  in  mock  dismay.  "  Confound 
it !  Just  as  soon  as  you  let  a  woman  edge  into  a  busi- 
ness proposition  ...  I  never  knew  it  to  fail.  Oh, 
well !  It's  immaterial  to  me.  We  need  a  lot  of  young 
fellows,  and  I  suppose  he'd  be  as  ornamental  as  any- 
body else.  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  see  whether  they 
planned  to  hire  him  or  not.     If  they  didn't  — "     He 


EGAN  243 

paused.  "  Here's  something  else :  Maybe  the  directors 
don't  want  him  —  at  his  price.  How  much  do  you  care 
about  his  being  with  us.'*  Come,  now!  What  do  you 
really  care?  Would  you  be  willing  to  underwrite  his 
salary  just  to  make  sure  he  gets  a  job  with  us! " 

"  Yes,"  said  Martha. 

Henderson  pursed  up  his  lips.  His  daughter  had 
rarely  been  a  mystery  to  him. 

"  It'd  take  half  the  income  from  your  mother's  es- 
tate.    Don't  be  rash." 

"  I  don't  need  it,  anyway." 

"  In  earnest?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said.     "  I  am.     I  ...  I  owe  it  to  him." 

Henderson  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand  as  he  stared 
across  at  her. 

"  Then  you  won't  have  to,"  he  said.  "  If  you  feel 
as  strong  as  that  about  it,  he's  as  good  as  hired  al- 
ready." 

"  Even  if  the  other  directors  — " 

Henderson's  mouth  straightened. 

"  When  I'm  Chairman  of  a  Board,"  he  said,  "  I  make 
decisions  first,  and  we  sometimes  take  a  vote  —  after- 
ward." 

At  half-past  eleven  in  the  morning,  Mr.  Martin  Hen- 
derson, bouncing  stiffly  in  the  tonneau  of  his  big  blue 
touring-car,  perceived  far  ahead  of  him  a  knot  of  la- 
bourers. For  the  fourth  time  since  they  had  left  the 
city  limits,  he  began  to  pick  out,  from  a  distance,  the 
figure  of  the  foreman. 

The  country  hereabouts  was  earthily  unprepossess- 
ing.    The  roadway  was  level,  raw  with  fresh  excava- 


244  EGAN 

tion,  and  heavily  rutted.  The  farms  on  either  side  were 
impoverished ;  the  buildings  innocent  of  paint  and  of 
repair.  A  recent  drought  had  set  a  crust  of  senna 
over  the  landscape,  and  the  late  autumn  sun  was  slowly 
baking  an  oven-finish  on  it.  The  new  rails  shone 
brightly,  blindingly  out  of  their  nest  of  very  hard-look- 
ing ballast ;  Henderson  didn't  like  to  look  at  them. 

Ahead,  there  were  construction  shacks,  and  great 
irregular  heaps  of  crude  materials.  Heavy  motor- 
trucks stood  athwart  the  roadbed.  The  labourers,  half 
clad  3'et  dripping  from  none  too  vigorous  exertion,  lan- 
guorously swung  picks  and  shovels,  every  ear  attuned 
to  the  whistle  still  thirty  minutes  away.  The  foreman 
mechanically  harangued  them. 

Henderson,  bounced  up  and  down  and  sidewise  over 
the  execrable  highway,  managed  to  lean  forward  without 
losing  his  balance.     **  St  .  .  .  stop  here,"  he  said. 

Obediently,  the  chauffeur  stopped.  Henderson  drew 
a  long  breath,  mopped  his  steaming  face,  and,  reclining 
with  a  sigh  of  relief,  watched.  The  foreman,  indifferent 
to  casuals,  continued  his  steady  harangue. 

"  Get  a  move  on  you,  Giuseppe  —  that  shovel  isn't 
going  to  bite  you.  Three  and  a  half  feet  deep  over  here 
—  that  right  ?  Go  sit  down  a  minute,  Angelo  —  you're 
all  in.  No,  they  won't  dock  you.  Fm  bossin'  this  job. 
Three  foot  five  ?  Not  enough.  See  if  you  fellows  can't 
level  that  out  by  noon.  Andiamo!  CavaUeria  Rusti- 
cana!     Pagliaccil " 

Half  a  dozen  of  the  toilers  laughed  toothfuUy,  and 
gestured  with  great  breadth  of  expression.  "  Ah,  Pag- 
liacc' !     Pagliacc' !  " 

"  Same    for    tutti-frutti,"    observed    the    foreman. 


EGAN  245 

**  Hey,  there !  —  You  lon^legged  bandit  with  the  green 
handkerchief  I " 

"  Ah,  banditt' !  "  chorussed  the  toilers  gleefully. 

"  What's  your  name  ?  Sapolio  ?  Well,  Sapolio, 
don't  you  forget  I'm  putting  up  a  quarter  for  the  first 
pick  that  strikes  bed-rock.  And  I'll  give  the  last  one 
a  poke  in  the  eye  —  maybe.  Understand?  You  saw 
the  hook  I  landed  on  Pietro  when  he  soldiered  on  me, 
didn't  you?  Go  to  it."  Here  he  caught  sight  of  Hen- 
derson, and,  in  spite  of  himself,  started. 

Henderson  beckoned.  "  Come  here  a  minute,  young 
man,  will  you  ?  " 

At  a  distance  of  thirty  feet,  Egan  surveyed  him. 
Egan  wasn't  as  natty  as  on  the  occasion  of  their  last 
meeting,  and  he  felt  it.  He  was  wearing  an  old  pair  of 
corduroy  trousers,  and  an  olive  drab  flannel  shirt,  open 
at  the  throat;  an  Army  web  belt  and  clumsy  Army 
shoes.  He  was  very  tired  and  dirty,  and  for  the  day's 
work  he  received  six  dollars.  He  had  been  here  since 
sunrise. 

He  surveyed  Henderson-  calmly.  The  Egan  of  three 
months  ago  would  have  revolted  sharply  even  at  the 
faintest  hint  of  patronage ;  but  the  Egan  of  today  was 
a  very  clear-seeing  young  man.  Presently,  after  just 
enough  hesitation  to  betray  something  of  what  was  in 
his  thoughts,  he  came  forward  to  the  rich  man's  car. 

"  You  look  as  though  it  wouldn't  hurt  you  much  to 
take  a  rest,"  said  Henderson,  pleasantly. 

"  It  is  different  from  riding,"  said  Egan.  Face  to 
face  with  Henderson,  he  scorned  him  less  than  he  might 
have  imagined.  He  didn't  respect  Henderson,  but  he 
did   respect   Henderson's   ingenuity.     The   man   could 


246  EGAN 

smile,  too,  j  ust  as  though  nothing  lay  on  his  conscience. 

"Want  to  take  a  ride?" 

"  No,  thanks.     This  is  the  company's  time." 

Henderson  grinned.  "  I  noticed  you  gave  away  some 
of  it  just  now,  though." 

Egan  glanced  over  his  shoulder  towards  his  gang. 
They  had  deduced  that  the  stout  gentleman  in  the  lux- 
urious car  wasn't  here  on  traction  matters,  and  at  the 
idea  of  Egan  consorting  on  friendly  terms  with  such  a 
fat  aristocrat,  they  frankly  gaped  —  partly  in  order  to 
soldier  less  obviously.  Egan  waved  an  imperious  hand 
at  them. 

"  You  mean  Angelo  over  by  the  shack .''  That's  dif- 
ferent.    He's  sick." 

"  Still,  you  took  the  responsibility." 

«  Oh,  yes." 

Mr.  Henderson  nodded.  "  Well,  I  don't  mind  taking 
some  myself.  I'm  a  director  in  this  outfit,  too.  I  want 
to  talk  to  you." 

"  I  think  I'd  better  stay  in  this  neighbourhood,  thank 
you." 

Mr.  Henderson,  casting  about  him,  detected  a  lone 
tree  a  hundred  yards  away.  "  We'll  run  up  under  that 
spreading  chestnut  tree,"  he  said.  "  You  and  I've  got 
something  to  say  to  each  other." 

Egan  gazed  at  him.  "  All  right.  Go  ahead  —  I'll 
be  right  over."  He  turned,  and  went  slowly  back  to 
his  gang.  He  was  puzzled  by  his  own  reception  of 
Henderson ;  he  wondered  if  he  had  ceased  to  hate  Hen- 
derson, and  why.  He  remembered  something  that 
Judge  Perkins  had  once  said :  "  It's  been  my  experi- 
ence," the  judge  had  said,  "  that  when  you  get  to  hat- 


EGAN  247 

ing  a  man,  you  hate  him  all  over.  K  you  get  to  think- 
ing a  man's  a  villain,  you  think  he's  a  villain  from  the 
time  he  gets  up  in  the  morning  to  the  time  he  goes  to 
bed  at  night.  You'd  think  there  was  something  shady 
behind  it  if  you  saw  him  walk  into  a  church,  or  give  a 
dollar  to  a  blind  beggar  outside."  Egan  had  indeed 
felt  this  way  about  Henderson.  Now,  he  didn't. 
Though  the  man  had  fought  Egan's  father,  and  sup- 
posedly destroyed  the  loftiest  of  Egan's  commercial  am- 
bitions, still,  he  didn't  hate  him.  He  merely  disliked 
him  —  and  wanted  to  know  what  he  had  to  say. 

"  You  keep  on  hustling,"  he  said  to  his  squad.  "  Big 
boss  —  hustle  like  merry  diablo.  Whistle  blows  in  a 
few  minutes." 

As  he  went  on  towards  the  shady  oasis,  he  was  no 
longer  conscious  of  his  appearance.  Pride  was  swell- 
ing in  him,  but  not  the  empty  pride  of  other  days  —  the 
pride  of  kibour.  He  felt  infinitely  more  independent 
than  when  he  had  last  seen  Henderson,  infinitely  more 
aged  and  stable.  He  could  even  look  down  on  Hender- 
son. He  was  stronger,  too ;  strong  enough  to  listen  to 
this  man,  and  keep  his  temper.  He  wondered  idly  — 
and  with  no  more  emotion  than  that  —  if  Henderson 
would  have  found  it  worth  while  to  drive  out  from  town 
to  see  him. 

The  chauffeur  had  been  furloughed,  and  was  smoking 
cigarettes  out  of  earshot.  Henderson  made  room  on 
the  seat  beside  him. 

"  I'm  obliged  to  vou  for  this  opportunity,  Egan." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right." 

The  big  man  was  very  considerate. 

*'  How's  everything  been  with  you.?*  " 


248  EGAN 

Egan  grimaced.     "  I'm  not  kicking." 

"  I  suppose  you're  wondering  what  brought  me  out 
here.?" 

"  I  can't  imagine." 

"  This  Air  Traffic  Company." 

«0h!" 

Henderson  offered  him  a  cigar,  which  Egan  accepted, 
with  the  mental  comment  that  it  wouldn't  kill  him. 
"  The  only  time  we  ever  met  each  other  before  wasn't 
quite  so  politic  as  it  might  hare  been.  I've  been  sort 
of  sorry  for  it." 

"  So  have  I." 

"  Well,  I  have.  You  and  I  needn't  have  quarrelled. 
But  you  lit  into  us  so  quick,  you  know.  I'm  sort  of 
peppery  myself  once  in  a  while.  And  it  was  an  awful 
hot  day,  you  remember.  But  that's  neither  here  nor 
there.  .  .  .  What  I  want  you  to  understand  is  that  I 
wouldn't  do  one  single  thing  to  damage  you  in  any  way, 
shape,  nor  manner.     You've  had  hard  luck  enough." 

"  That's  very  kind  of  you." 

"  Now  don't  be  hard  to  talk  to.  You  know  what 
brought  me  out  here?  " 

"  You've  already  said  what  it  is." 

Henderson  waited  until  the  screech  of  sirens  from  all 
the  Plainfield  factories  had  died  away.  "  I  hear  you've 
met  my  daughter  Martha  since  she's  been  visiting  over 
here." 

"  Yes." 

"  I've  been  out  of  town  a  good  bit  —  in  the  East.  I 
haven't  had  much  time  with  her  this  summer.  That's 
how  she  could  visit  here  so  long.  And  that's  why  I 
didn't  know  until  today  you'd  had  any  air  plans  up 


EGAN  M9 

your  own  sleeve.  I  didn't  know  it  until  she  told  me. 
And  she'd  never  mentioned  it  imtil  today." 

"  Indeed." 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  don't  know  whether  I'm  like  other 
men  or  not,  Egan,  but  I  don't  hardly  ever  take  my 
business  home.  I  don't  believe  in  bothering  women 
with  a  whole  lot  of  junk  they  have  to  try  to  understand 
whether  they  want  to  or  not.  And  when  I  go  into  a 
proposition  that's  got  a  smell  of  novelty  in  it,  I  don't 
stand  for  a  word  of  it  creepin'  out  'til  after  it's  served 
up  so  tight  it  can't  break.  So  it  wasn't  'til  today, 
when  Martha  told  me  you'd  been  scouting  around  — " 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  didn't  know  I'd  been 
scouting  around?  " 

"  Well,  I  didn't  know  much  about  it.  That's  a  gos- 
pel fact.  I  didn't  know  you  had  any  transportation 
ideas.  You  might  have  planned  some  kind  of  an  exhibi- 
tion scheme  —  a  flying  circus,  or  —  I  didn't  know* 
That's  gospel  truth." 

"  I'll  take  your  word  for  it." 

Henderson  felt  that  he  was  making  little  headway. 

**  So  Air  Traffic  put  a  crimp  in  you,  did  it?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I'd  call  it  that,  exactly ;  but  it 
meant  a  whole  lot  to  me." 

"  This  —  job  you've  got  here  isn't  what  you  think  is 
your  limit,  is  it?  " 

"  Meaning  what?  " 

**  I  mean,  are  you  satisfied?  " 

"  What  would  you  judge?  " 

"  I'm  asking  you." 

**  Then  I  don't  know  whether  I'm  satisfied  or  not." 

Henderson    deliberated.      "  I    guess    I    won't    beat 


250  EGAN 

around  the  bush.  If  I'd  known  you  had  any  interest  in 
this  air  game,  I'd  have  tried  to  let  you  in  for  a  piece  of 
ours.     You're  qualified,  fast  enough." 

Egan  laughed.     "  As  one  of  your  pilots?  " 
"  Better  than  that.     Director  of  Flying  Operations, 
or  something  on  that  order." 

"  Are  you  actually  offering  me  a  place  in  your  com- 
pany, Mr.  Henderson  ?  " 

The  stout  man  gesticulated. 

"  Wait  I  I  don't  want  you  to  make  any  snap  deci- 
sions. I  don't  want  you  to  go  off  half-cocked.  Take 
time  on  it.  Don't  say  a  word.  Now,  listen:  you're  a 
scrapper,  and  that  counts  one  for  you.  You  know  the 
air  game.  You've  had  ideas.  You've  bossed  men. 
You've  had  military  training.  I  came  out  here  to  try 
to  make  you  see  we  hadn't  — " 

"  Was  this  Air  Traffic  Company  your  own  scheme?  '* 

"  No ;  they  got  it  up  two  or  three  months  ago,  out 

here.     I  came  in  later.     They  put  it  up  to  me  when  I 

was  off  in  New  York ;  I  got  some  advice,  and  decided  to 

go  into  it." 

"  But  you're  speaking  for  the  group  ?  " 
"  I'm  speaking  as  chairman  of  the  Board  of  Direc- 
tors. I  haven't  talked  to  any  of  the  others  of  'em 
since  this  morning,  and  I  don't  have  to.  When  a  crowd 
wants  me  for  a  director,  they  want  me  for  a  director. 
Listen;  you're  in  the  position  lots  of  men  with  good 
ideas  get  in.  Big  capital  comes  along  and  swamps  you. 
And  in  this  case,  it  may  be  lucky  for  you  it  did.  You 
wouldn't  have  had  a  Chinaman's  chance  to  make  a  suc- 
cess of  it.     You'd  have  busted,  just  as  sure  as  fate. 


EGAN  251 

Not  because  you're  no  good  —  but  because  you  aren't 
good  enough  to  be  a  big  executive  yet.  In  the  right 
place,  you'd  be  a  valuable  man.  I  don't  believe  this  is 
the  place,  out  here  on  a  buckaroo's  job.  I  want  you 
to  take  plenty  of  time  to  think  this  over.  A  couple  of 
days,  anyway  —  more  if  you  want.  You're  not  an  ex- 
perienced man  except  for  one  class  of  work.  That's 
where  you're  valuable ;  that's  where  you'll  get  the  most 
money.  You  can  come  with  us  and  be  Director  of  Fly- 
ing Operations  at  three  thousand.  You'll  have  a  good, 
fair  try-out.  If  you  make  good,  we'll  fix  it  easy  for 
you  to  grab  off  some  stock,  and  if  you  earn  the  promo- 
tion, pretty  soon  you'll  be  junior  vice-president,  and  a 
Member  of  the  Board,  yourself.  That's  what's  ahead 
of  it.  It's  worth  thinking  over.  Suppose  the  worst 
occurs,  and  the  company  don't  pay.  If  you've  done 
well,  you'll  have  made  a  reputation  with  the  heads  of 
the  biggest  concerns  in  PlainiSeld.  You'll  have  a  fu- 
ture. And  I'm  not  here  to  throw  you  any  sops  or  any 
bouquets,  either.  I  came  out  the  minute  I  gathered  you 
might  be  in  the  market  for  this  kind  of  a  job." 

Egan  hesitated. 

"  Was  that  the  only  reason  that  brought  you.?  " 

"  Yes.     After  what  Martha  told  me." 

"  I  see."  Egan  looked  down.  "  Of  course,  if  you 
insist  on  my  thinking  it  over,  I'll  say  I'll  think,  but  — " 

"  Oh,  I  know  if  you  answered  now  you'd  say  *  No.'  " 

"Do  you?" 

"  Certainly.  That's  why  I  want  you  to  think. 
We've  got  a  meeting  this  afternoon  and  one  Saturday. 
I'd  kind  of  like  to  have  you  make  up  your  mind  by  Sat- 


252  EGAN 

urday.  That  gives  you  four  days.  And  — "  He  un- 
expectedly put  his  hand  on  Egan's  knee.  "  Be  reason- 
able." 

"  The  answer'!!  be  *  No,'  Mr.  Henderson."  Egan 
spolce  very  quietly. 

"  Now  cUm't  — " 

"  I'll  get  word  to  you  again  by  the  end  of  the  week, 
but—" 

"  Egan,  it's  the  chance  of  a  lifetime.  You  can't 
lose,  no  matter  what  happens." 

"  It  doesn't  please  me  to  have  a  woman  brought 
into  — " 

"  Egan,  I  tell  you,  she  just  told  me  what  you'd  been 
doing.     She  didn't  send  me  out  here." 

«  Is  that  true.?  " 

"  Absolutely.     I  asked  her  where  I  could  find  you." 

"  And  it's  because  you  think  I'll  work  loyally  and 
faithfully  for  you,  and  help  put  money  in  your  pockets, 
and  — " 

Henderson's  shoulders  expressed  his  opinion. 

"  It's  a  job,  just  the  same  as  any  other  job." 

Slander  was  on  the  tip  of  Egan's  tongue,  but  he  held 
it  back.  Martha  had  sent  Henderson  here ;  and  Egan's 
gratitude  to  her  gained  immunity  for  the  parent. 

"  The  answer'll  be  *  No,'  but  I  appreciate  — " 

"  Nothing's  final  yet.  You've  got  four  days.  We 
want  all  the  local  men  we  can  get.  It's  good  business 
to  have  local  men  in  it,  Egan.  There's  nothing  fishy 
about  it.  I  wanted  you  to  know  as  quick  as  you  could 
I  hadn't  intended  to  cramp  your  style.  I  wish  I'd 
known  before.  I  wish  you'd  have  come  to  me.  You 
wouldn't  have  found  me  a  bad  man  to  .do  business  with. 


EGAN  253 

no  matter  what  you'd  been  brought  up  to  think.  Your 
old  man  and  I  had  plenty  of  scrimmages,  but  that  don't 
prevent  us  from  getting  together.  I  could've  helped 
you.  I  can  help  you  right  now.  You  think  it  over." 
He  signalled  to  the  chauffeur. 

Egan  clambered  out  to  the  road.  His  curiosity  was 
highly  aroused;  he  couldn't  comprehend  what  motives 
were  really  behind  Henderson's  apparent  magnanimity. 
He  thought  to  himself  that  the  man  was  either  a  power- 
ful actor  or  a  powerful  hypocrite,  with  not  much  lati- 
tude for  choice. 

"  All  right,"  he  said.  **  I'll  get  word  to  you  some- 
how by  Saturday  morning." 

And  having  scarcely  ten  minutes  left  for  lunch,  made 
his  farewell  with  very  scanty  ceremony. 

He  had  heard,  of  course,  that  Martha  was  in  Plain- 
field.  He  wanted  to  see  her,  and  when  he  had  weighed 
the  matter,  he  decided  that  there  was  no  disloyalty 
involved.  The  only  thing  about  it  was  that  Mary,  on 
Sunday  afternoon,  had  held  Egan's  hand  with  significant 
firmness,  and  begged  him  not  to  forget  that  they  were 
friends.  Mary  had  been  very  much  upset,  that  Sun- 
day. She  seemed  to  need  more  cheering  up  than  usual. 
She  had  made  Egan  feel  that  while  he  wasn't  actually 
engaged  to  her,  his  obligation  was  doubly  binding. 
And,  for  a  fact,  he  had  been  greatly  moved  by  her  evi- 
dent dependence  upon  him.  She  had  aroused  all  his 
protective  instincts.  It  was  a  shame  that  she  was 
bound  to  a  man  like  Macklin.  Egan  was  inclined  to 
think  that  chivalry  compelled  him  to  maintain  his  status 
toward  her,  if  only   as   a  bulkhead.     She  needed  his 


254.  EGA^ 

friendship  so  much  —  and  she  might  need  more.  Be- 
sides, she  had  vaguely  reminded  him  of  his  promise. 
Curious  girl,  Mary.  She  would  be  seriously  offended 
if  he  called  on  Martha. 

But  he  went  eventually  to  the  Plainfield  House,  and 
saw  Martha  in  the  gorgeous  public  drawing-room  on 
the  second  floor.     Publicity  meant  safety,  anyway. 

They  were  both  acutely  self-conscious  as  they  shook 
hands. 

"  I  thought  I'd  better  come  to  see  you,"  he  said, 
contriving  to  get  himself  together.  "  Your  father 
looked  me  up  this  morning.  You  knew  he  would,  didn't 
you.?  » 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"  What  I  want  to  find  out  from  you  is  what  you  said 
to  him  that  made  him  come." 

Martha  flushed  at  his  brusqueness.     "  What  I  said  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  must  have  said  something.  He  ad- 
mitted it.  That's  what  makes  it  rather  awkward  now. 
1  wouldn't  do  anything  in  the  world  to  hurt  your  feel- 
ings, if  — "  His  voice  sank.  "  If  there  were  any  other 
iv^ay  out  of  it." 

Since  he  wasn't  looking  at  her,  she  dared  to  look  at 
him. 

"  Hurting  my  feelings,  Mr.  Egan  ?  Whatever  do 
you  think  would  do  that  ?  " 

**  Wouldn't  it  hurt  your  feelings  if,  after  all  you've 
tried  to  do  for  me  —  and  I'm  more  grateful  than  I 
could  ever  tell  you  —  I  found  I  couldn't  —  couldn't 
possibly  ...  go  with  that  company.?  " 

She  gave  a  little  start  of  surprise.  "  Why,  I  thought 
"that  was  all  decided !  '* 


EGAN  255 

"  It  is,  practically.     But  — " 

"  But  — "  She  was  breathing  a  little  excitedly.  .  .  . 
"  Why,  Mr.  Egan,  don't  you  know  what  happened  this 
afternoon.'^  " 

"  No." 

She  leaned  forward,  very  intently.     "  Sure?  " 

"  Positive." 

She  sat  back.  "  Tell  me  how  you  think  it's  de- 
cided." 

"  I  came  to  go  over  it  with  you,  so  you'd  under- 
stand.    I've  turned  it  down." 

"  When?  " 

"  This  morning." 

"To  Dad?" 

"  Certainly." 

She  was  confused;  so  confused  that  her  tone  was  of 
protest. 

"  But  he  can't  have  understood  it  that  way !  " 

"  I  think  it  was  as  clear  as  anybody  could  make  it. 
Miss  Henderson." 

Her  eyes  were  very  wide.  "  That's  awfully  funny. 
.  .  .  Why  did  you  turn  it  down.-*  Because  your  father 
didn't  like  Dad\?  " 

"  Why  — " 

"  We've  always  been  perfectly  frank  with  each  other, 
up  to  now,  haven't  we?  I've  known  you  didn't  like 
Dad.  I  told  him  I  felt  it  —  and  he  explained  how  he'd 
always  had  to  fight  your  old  firm,  and  how  there  got 
to  be  hard  feelings  —  but  that  shouldn't  have  made  you 
keep  it  up,  necessarily.  And  after  he  found  out  from 
me  this  morning  what  you'd  been  planning  to  do,  and 
how  Air  Traffic  must  have  crushed  you,  he  was  so  sorry. 


256  EGAN 

.  .  .  I  didn't  suggest  his  getting  you ;  he  thought  of  it 
himself.  He  said  you  were  exactly  the  man.  .  .  .  And 
this  afternoon,  they  had  a  directors'  meeting.  He  tele- 
phoned me  just  before  dinner.  He'd  told  the  other  di- 
rectors he  wanted  you  and  —  and  —  some  of  them,  not 
all  of  them,  but  somd  of  them  were  against  it.  Oh, 
awfully  set  against  it.  Mr.  Luke  wanted  his  son  there, 
and  didn't  want  you.  And  they  had  a  long,  long  squab- 
ble and  .  .  ." 

"  I  told  him  I  couldn't  accept,"  said  Egan  blankly. 

"  And  he  told  the  directors  they'd  have  you  or  they 
wouldn't  have  him !  " 

"  No !  "  said  Egan. 

"But  he  did!  That's  exactly  what  he  told  them. 
He  said  they  hadn't  been  fair  to  you.  He  said  you're 
the  only  man  he  could  put  his  hands  on  who  knew 
exactly  what  was  needed,  and  had  all  the  qualities  they 
wanted.  And  he  said  if  they  wouldn't  let  him  have  his 
own  way  and  he  resigned,  he'd  publish  a  statement  in 
the  newspapers  and  tell  exactly  why.  And  they  wanted 
to  take  a  vote,  and  he  wouldn't  let  them.  They  wanted 
to  leave  it  to  Mr.  Luke,  the  president,  and  Dad 
wouldn't  let  them.  He  just  sat  on  it  until  everybody 
crumbled."  She  brushed  her  eyes.  "  So  that's  why  I 
can't  understand  — " 

Egan  cleared  his  throat.  "  You  say  —  Mr.  Hen- 
derson —  did  all  that .?  " 

"  Yes,  he  did.  And  just  because  he's  sure  you're  the 
man  he  wants.  He  said  he'd  only  seen  you  twice  in  his 
life,  but  he  knew.  And  then  you  talk  about  not  .  .  . 
liking  him ! " 


EGAN  257 

"  I  didn't  say  I  didn't  like  him,"  said  Egan  under 
his  breath. 

"  Maybe  you  didn't  say  so  in  so  man}'  words,  but 
I've  always  known  it.     And  it's  true,  isn't  it?  " 

"Isn't  it  true?" 

"  I'm  —  afraid  it  is." 

"  And  you  don't  know  him  any  better  than  he  does 
you !  " 

"  Yes  —  I  think  I  do." 

"Well  — how?" 

Egan  was  rattled.     "  I  just  feel  that  I  do." 

"  And  so  you  don't  want  to  work  for  Air  Traffic 
simply  because  you  don't  like  him,  and  he's  a  director? 
I  don't  see  why  you  were  willing  to  work  on  the  trolley 
line,  then.  It's  the  same  thing.  He's  a  director  of 
that.  You  aren't  going  to  give  up  the  position  you've 
got  now,  are  you?  Don't  you  see  how  silly  that  would 
be?  " 

Egan,  conceding  reluctantly  that  it  might  be  rather 
silly,  said  that  he  hated  to  feel  that  he  was  offered 
preference  out  of  pity. 

"  Pity !  "  she  echoed,  with  gentle  asperity.  "  The 
only  way  I  pity  you  is  because  you're  so  stubborn  you'll 
miss  half  the  good  things  in  life  without  your  ever 
knowing  it !  The  idea  !  Take  an  absolutely  ridiculous 
dislike  to  a  man,  without  the  first  little  thing  to  justify 
it,  and  then  cut  off  your  own  nose  to  .  .  .  you're  such 
a  big  old  stupid,  Bronson  Egan !  " 

Egan  started,  and  looked  away. 

"  Would  it  please  you  so  much  if  I  took  that  job?  " 

"  Why,    /   don't    care,"    she   said.     "  /   don't    care 


258  ,  EGAN 

whether  you  do  or  not.  It  doesn't  affect  me  one  way 
or  the  other.  But  it's  such  a  good  chance  for  you. 
It's  exactly  the  right  thing  —  just  as  though  it  were 
made  for  you." 

"Well,  wasn't  it?" 

"  Wasn't  it  what,  Mr.  Egan?  " 

**  Made  for  me." 

*'  No !  I've  told  you  over  and  over  again.  And  if 
you  let  silly  prejudices  stand  in  your  way  all  the  time, 
you  won't  ever  amount  to  anything,  after  all.  I'm  not 
going  to  beg  you  to  take  this  place.  I'm  sorry  you  feel 
as  you  do  about  Dad.  If  you've  made  a  decision  you 
won't  change,  why,  that  ends  it.  Only  it  seems  to  me 
that  what  Dad  did  for  you  this  afternoon  ought  to 
make  you  see.  He  told  me  that  if  I'd  explained  to  him 
before  what  you'd  hoped  to  do  by  yourself,  he'd  have 
had  you  in  Air  Traffic  sooner.     Please  be  sensible." 

Egan  tried  to  think  what  was  sensible.  There  was 
the  money  end  of  it.  There  was  the  association. 
There  was  a  potential  future.  There  was  —  Hender- 
son.    And  there  was  also,  indirectly,  Martha. 

It  occurred  to  him  suddenly  that  every  one  of  the 
Air  Traffic  directors  had  been  intimately  concerned 
with  his  progress.  Some  of  them  had  been  connected 
with  the  Egan  Company;  some  were  owners  of  news- 
papers. 

Egan  fell  to  stroking  his  chin.  What  might  he  not 
learn  by  association.'' 

"  Would  it  please  you  —  if  I  changed  my  mind,  and 
accepted.''  "  he  asked,  soberly. 

«  Yes,  it  would,  Mr.  Egan." 

**  Then  I'll  change  it,"  he  said ;  and  the  instant  the 


EGAN  26d 

words  were  spoken,  he  almost  wished  them  unsaid.  Not 
for  any  of  the  reasons  which  had  previously  influenced 
him ;  but  for  another,  and  a  curiously  illuminating  rea- 
son. He  had  to  confess  to  himself  that  it  was  Mar- 
tha's personality  which  had  swayed  him.  Would  he 
have  done  it  for  Mary?  Had  he  in  fact  yielded  to 
Mary  when  her  father  had  offered  him  a  place? 

"  I'm  glad  ...  as  glad  as  I  was  when  I  heard 
you're  .  .  .  keeping  your  promise  to  me  —  now.** 

Abstractedly,  he  said  good-bye  to  Martha.  He 
hoped  fervently  that  she  would  be  well  and  happy.. 
Unsatisfied,  he  went  slowly  over  to  the  Metropolitan, 
Club.  On  the  way,  he  confessed  to  himself  that  he> 
wouldn't  under  any  circumstances  have  done  it  for 
Mary. 


XXII 

IN  the  lobby  of  the  club,  Stanley  Adams,  no  longer 
privileged  to  pass  unchallenged  into  the  inner 
rooms,  was  sitting  patiently. 

"  Hello,  Bronson !  I  knew  you'd  show  up  here  sooner 
or  later." 

"So?     What's  up?" 

"  I'm  hot  sure.  Let's  get  off  in  a  comer  where  we 
can  talk.     Let's  go  in  the  grill.     I  want  some  coffee."  <. 

Egan,  after  an  instant's  scrutiny,  put  his  hand  on 
the  reporter's  arm.  "  Good.  I'll  have  some  with 
you." 

Adams  shivered.  "  If  you'd  just  preach  or  swear, 
Bronson  — " 

"What's  the  use?" 

"There  you  have  it!  *  What's  the  use?'  Well, 
maybe  there  is  a  use  once  in  awhile.  Maybe  this  is  the 
while." 

They  went  down  to  the  deserted  grill,  where  Egan 
commandeered  a  table,  and  put  his  elbows  on  it. 

"  You  act  like  a  man  with  something  on  his  mind, 
Uncle  Stanley." 

The  journalist's  eyes  were  very  bright.     **  I've  been 

having  more  fun  than  a  barrel  of  monkeys.     The  best 

part  of  the  newspaper  game  is  playing  sleuth-hound. 

Everybody's  got  a  certain  amount  of  that  in  him,  and 

I've  got  a  lot.     It's  a  great  business.     Trying  to  pry 

into  other  folks'  affairs,  and  spade  up  all  their  buried 

260 


EGAN  261 

skeletons.  Fine  business  —  fine  business !  IVe  done 
lots  of  it.  I've  been  nosing  around  for  your  benefit. 
I've  struck  something  for  us,  Bronson  —  I  sure  have 
struck  something.  I  was  going  to  wait  'til  I'd  fin- 
ished the  job  myself,  but  it's  time  for  you  to  come  in. 
Music  cue." 

"  Who've  you  seen  ?  " 

**  Garrity,"  said  the  reporter.  "  Big  Bill  Garrity. 
We've  got  as  thick  as  thieves,  only,  as  Harry  Lauder 
says,  perhaps  I'm  a  trifle  the  thicker-r-r  of  the  two." 
"  Garrity .''  Our  old  superintendent  ?  " 
"  Garrity.  Big  Bill.  A  gentleman  of  infinite  ca- 
pacity." Adams  laughed.  "  The  original  square- 
bead,  Bronson.  His  neck  keeps  right  on  going  as  far 
as  his  cowlick." 

"  What  on  earth  have  you  been  doing  with  Garrity .''  '* 
Adams  drank  half  of  his  coffee  at  a  gulp.  "  My 
own  hunch  has  always  been  that  Garrity's  the  universal 
joint  of  that  busted  company  of  yours.  Garrity  ran 
the  plant  all  alone  for  nearly  three  months.  First, 
when  your  dad  was  sick,  and  then  afterwards  —  Gar- 
rity was  in  charge  when  everything  happened.  Garrity 
was  in  charge  during  the  strike.  If  there  was  any  mys- 
tery committed  around  there,  Garrity's  carrying  it 
under  his  hat,  and  it's  lonesome.  And  Garrity's  a 
thirsty  soul  with  one  ambition.  He  wants  to  have 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars  in  the  bank,  a  big  red  au- 
tomobile, and  a  stucco  house  with  a  glassed-in  veranda 
on  it  by  the  time  he's  sixty.  He's  fifty-six  now.  He 
says  he  saved  up  ten  thousand  once,  but  he  lost  it  on 
a  speculation.  Garrity'll  talk  to  the  high  bidder  — 
that's  my  guess." 


262  EGAN 

"  WeU,  who's  bidding?  " 

"  Wait !  "  Adams  finished  his  coffee.  "  I  went  down 
to  Garrity  a  few  days  ago  to  get  his  views  on  shop 
management.  Went  to  his  house,  and  acted  Kke  Dicky 
Davis  come  to  interview  the  Czar.  Little  article  for 
the  Sunday  Herald  —  how  the  foreman  can  make  or 
break  the  boss  by  the  way  he  handles  his  men.  Garrity 
shied  off  like  a  scared  elephant.  So  I  led  the  conver- 
sation around  to  pleasant  things.  Garrity  thinks  the 
Republicans  brought  on  the  war,  put  up  the  taxes,  and 
outlawed  the  booze.  I  let  him  convert  me,  but  he  had 
to  fight  for  it.  His  chief  argument  is  that  anybody 
who  doesn't  agree  with  him  must  be  a  damned  fool. 
When  I  got  converted,  he  decided  to  come  down  hand- 
some. I  let  him  bring  out  some  of  the  worst  imitation 
of  fusel  oil  I  ever  had  to  sample.  You  could  use  it  for 
a  shampoo.  He  had  the  grace  to  make  faces  when  he 
drank  it  himself.  The  medicinal  twitch.  But  it's 
ag'in  the  law,  so  he  loved  it.  I  told  him  about  a  little 
private  cache  not  too  far  from  here.  The  next  night 
we  didn't  make  faces." 

"Well?" 

Adams  smiled  with  self-approval. 

"  He's  told  me  how  a  shop  foreman  can  make  or 
break  the  boss,  Bronson.  Oh,  he  hasn't  admitted  any- 
thing! Far  from  it.  These  were  generalities.  But 
he  lacks  imagination.  I've  got  a  hunch  that  all  his 
generalities  are  out  of  his  own  experience.  So,  we 
can  hunt  up  some  of  the  men  who  worked  under  Garrity 
and  find  out  how  the  labour  trouble  in  the  Egan  plant 
happened.  If  it  happened  in  about  the  same  general 
way  as  Bill  described,  why  — " 


EGAN  26S 

Egan  was  thoughtful. 

"  Hold  on.  Was  Garritj  quite  responsible  for  what 
he  said?  " 

"  Up  to  a  certain  point,"  said  Adams,  grinning. 
"  If  you  mean  was  he  coherent  —  yes,  he  was.  He 
called  me  *  brother.'  Then  he  called  me  '  old  pal.* 
Then  he  called  me  '  gossoon  '  or  '  trombone  '  or  one  of 
those  old-fashioned  Hibernian  pet  names.  I  think  he 
loves  me."  Adams  turned  serious.  "  No,  Bronson, 
we're  on  the  trail.  Garrity  was  certainly  talking  out 
of  his  own  experience.  Whether  it  was  an  echo  of  last 
fall,  or  not,  remains  to  be  seen.  Anyway,  I've  gone 
as  far  as  I  can ;  it's  your  turn  next." 

"  Why  did  you  think  I  ought  to  mix  into  it  person- 
aUy.?" 

"  It's  this  way  —  Garrity's  temperament  doesn't 
show  until  he's  had  a  few  drinks.  Sober,  he's  about  as 
soft  and  pliable  as  a  brick.  But  when  he  isn't  sober, 
he  sort  of  slops  over.  You  can  make  him  cry  as  easy 
as  anything.  Thinks  he's  abused,  you  know.  The 
hand  of  every  man's  ag'in  him,  and  he  wants  to  be 
petted.  Now  the  way  to  get  information  out  of  Gar- 
rity — " 

"  Is  the  way  you  went  after  it  ?  " 

Adams  straightened.  "  Don't  the  ends  justify  the 
means  ?  " 

"  Well  —  go  on  with  your  idea." 

Adams  hesitated,  and  finally  went  on. 

"  Well,  if  you  could  get  at  him  when  he's  mellow, 
I  think  you'd  get  something  out  of  him.  I  don't  know 
what  his  reactions  come  from,  Bronson,  but  he's  bitter 
as  the  devil  against  the  Old  Man,  and  he's  full  of  soft 


264  EGAN 

soap  about  you.  I  didn't  dare  to  touch  on  it  but  just 
a  little.  He  thinks  the  Old  Man  ought  to  have  given 
him  more  authority  and  a  bit  of  stock.  He  doesn't 
think  he  ever  had  a  chance  there.  He  talked  about  the 
Old  Man's  heel  on  his  neck.  And  he  spoke  about  you 
as  though  you'd  had  the  toughest  kind  of  luck.  As 
though  you  hadn't  a  chance,  either.  I  believe  that 
if  you  can  hit  him  at  the  right  time  — " 

Egan  shook  his  head  slowly.  "  I  don't  think  I  could 
quite  do  that,  Uncle  Stanley." 

The  journalist  looked  hard  at  him. 

"  I've  paved  the  way,  Bronson  —  if  you're  interested. 
I  took  it  for  granted  you  — " 

"  I  am  interested." 

"  But  not  to  that  extent .'' "  Adams'  smile  was 
forced. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,  Uncle  Stanley."  Egan  hated  to 
say  it.  "  I  appreciate  everything  you're  trying  to  do 
for  me,  of  course,  but  —  even  if  your  idea  is  the  only 
one  that'll  work,  I  can't  do  it.  I  just  can't.  I'm 
sorry." 

Adams  half-whistled  and  drummed  on  the  table. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  make  very  many  allowances 
for  people,  Bronson.  In  fact,  I  don't  believe  you  make 
any  allowances  for  awt/body.  You're  too  darned  self- 
satisfied.  .  .  .  Ever  drink  anything  yourself.?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.     I'm  not  a  prohibitionist." 

"  Ever  get  soused.''  " 

"  Once.  Everybody's  entitled  to  find  out  what  his 
limit  is." 

**  You're  hitting  at  me,  Bronson.'* " 

"  I'm  not  hitting  at  anybody." 


EGAN  265 

"  But  you  think  I'm  a  fine  old  specimen  of  a  repro- 
bate? "  As  Egan  hesitated,  he  went  on :  "  Go  ahead  — 
don't  be  afraid  to  say  it." 

*'  What  difference  does  it  make  what  I  think?  " 

"  It  makes  a  lot  —  to  me." 

"  I  wish  I  thought  so,  Uncle  Stanley." 

Adams  continued  to  drum  on  the  table.  "  Once  I 
was  going  acro'ss  Broadway,"  he  said  presently,  "  and 
a  bum  stopped  me  and  asked  for  half  a  dollar.  I  asked 
him  why  in  thunder  /  should  give  him  a  half  a  dollar. 
He  said :  '  Us  gentlemen  ought  to  stick  together.' 
So  I  asked  him  how  he  knew  I  was  a  gentleman.  '  Oh,' 
he  said,  '  I  can  tell  it  by  your  fur  coat.' " 

Egan  laughed  inquiringly.     "  That  isn't  all,  is  it?  " 

"  That's  the  end.     Period." 

"  I  don't  get  the  point." 

"  Maybe  you  judge  too  much  by  appearances." 

Egan  laughed  again,  but  not  too  mirthfully. 

"I  —  well,  it's  a  difficult  thing  to  argue  about." 

"  I  don't  think  you  know,"  said  Adams,  quite  simply, 
"  that  when  I  was  in  New  York  I  wasn't  any  howling 
success  —  did  you?  " 

"  I  thought  you  were." 

"  Then  why'd  you  suppose  I  came  back  here?  " 

"  Why  — " 

"  Prohibition's  a  great  thing  for  the  people  who 
don't  need  it.  But  I've  got  to  have  some  sort  of 
eraser.  Just  get  pickled  enough  to  forget  what  a  fool 
I  was  to  get  pickled  once  too  often.  .  .  .  You  don't 
need  to  look  at  me  that  way;  I  haven't  committed  any 
crimes.  .  .  .  Only  .  .  .  there  are  too  many  things  I 
don't   like    to    remember.     So    it's    really   killing   two 


^66  EGAN 

birds  with  one  stone  when  I  have  these  sessions  with 
Garritj." 

"  Even  at  that,  Uncle  Stanley  — " 

"  You  won't  even  close  your  fingers  on  the  bird  in 
the  hand?  " 

"  Not  that  way.     I  couldn't." 

"  Well  — "  Adams  stared  at  him,  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  and  suddenly  pushed  his  chair  back.  "  Then 
let's  go  home." 

In  the  old  living-room  —  now  the  communal  "  par- 
lour " —  of  the  Vine  Street  house,  two  men  arose  si- 
multaneously as  Adams  and  Egan  went  past  the  door. 

"  That  you,  Adams  ?  "  Eddie  Macklin,  followed  by 
Mr.  Kent,  came  out  into  the  hall.  "  The  landlady  said 
you'd  be  in  shortly,  so  we  waited.  Can  we  have  ten 
minutes  or  so  —  privately  ?  " 

Adams  stared. 

"  I  guess  so.  Come  up  in  my  room.  Good  night, 
Bronson." 

"  Good  night,  everybody."  Egan  was  perfectly  sat- 
isfied to  make  his  escape. 

Adams  escorted  his  visitors  up  the  dim-lit  stairway, 
set  out  chairs  for  them,  offered  cigarettes.  "  What 
brought  you  around  ?  " 

Mr.  Kent  leaned  toward  him  in  a  suave  preliminary. 
"  Adams,  you're  a  sensible  man." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Kent,  thank  you.  That  makes  it 
unanimous." 

Mr.  Kent  frowned  at  the  levity.  "  You  know  that 
Eddie,  here,  is  likely  to  be  the  next  mayor  of  Plain- 
field?" 


EGAN  9fft 

"  I've  heard  it  mentioned  once  or  twice.'* 

Kent  threw  a  note  of  aggression  into  his  voice.  "  If 
he's  nominated,  he'll  be  elected." 

"  That's  true  enough.  Yes,  I'll  subscribe  to  tKat 
myself." 

"  And  he'll  be  nominated,  too." 

"  It  may  be  so." 

Mr.  Kent  was  profoundly  impressive.  "  Anybody 
who  plays  with  fire  is  liable  to  get  his  fingers  burned, 
isn't  he?" 

Adams  had  grown  very  sober.  His  eyes  were  still 
brilliant. 

"  It  sounds  reasonable." 

Kent  dropped  his  voice  a  semitone. 

"  What  we  want  to  know  is, —  speaking  as  man  to 
man  —  are  you  going  to  oppose  Eddie's  nomination.''  " 

Adams  laughed  aloud.  "  How  can  a  poor  newspaper 
man  — " 

"  Your  job  on  the  Herald  isn't  half  good  enough  for 
you.  Suppose  you  got  your  job  on  the  Times  back, 
with  a  decent  salary.  Would  you  write  and  sign  an 
editorial  article  of  the  proper  tenor?  " 

"  Proper?     Is  anything  in  politics  proper?  " 

"  Yes ;  in  favour  of  Eddie's  candidacy." 

"  That's  an  important  question." 

"  Well,  how'il  you  answer  it?  " 

Adams  hesitated.  "  In  the  first  place,  I  wouldn't  go 
back  to  the  Times.  They  haven't  got  money  enough 
to  hire  me  for  ten  minutes.  In  the  second  place,  I 
wouldn't  write  political  dope  if  I  did  go  back.  In  the 
third  place,  I  wouldn't  promise  to  back  any  candidate." 

Kent  stiffened.     "  But  I  think  you'll  do  all  three." 


268  EGAN 

"Do  you?" 

"  Something  tells  me  so,  Adams." 

"  One  of  those  little  birds  you  read  about  ?  " 

«  Exactly." 

"  I'd  like  to  know  what  it  said." 

Kent  glanced  at  Macklin  who  had  been  sitting  very 
erect,  listening  carefully.  "  When  I  was  in  New  York 
in  1917,  that  little  bird  flew  over  the  river  to  me  from 
Hoboken  — " 

"  Ah !  "     The  journalist  winced. 

"Am  I  right?" 

"  So  far."     Adams  was  visibly  shaken. 

"Shall  I  go  on?" 

"  Not  necessary."  Adams  bit  his  lip,  and  Macklin 
grinned  at  him. 

"  I  thought  not.  Now  you  have  in  your  possession 
a  drawing,  or  a  photograph,  or  several  of  them,  that 
might  inject  a  bit  of  destructive  .  .  .  er  .  .  .  humour 
into  this  campaign.  Correct?  Suppose  you  destroy 
it.  Suppose  you  and  I  both  bury  a  certain  portion  of 
.  .  .  er  .  .  .  the  past.  Suppose  you  go  back  to  the 
Times  —  I'll  arrange  so  that  it'U  be  smooth  enough 
sailing  for  you,  and  — " 

Adams'  backbone  was  rigid. 

"  And  support  Eddie?     In  a  signed  article?  " 

"  Precisely." 

"  And  the  alternative  — " 

"  That'll  be  what  you  make  it." 

Adams,  who  was  sitting  next  the  door,  suddenly 
reached  out  and  opened  it. 

"  Oh,  Bronson !  "  he  called.  "  Bronson !  Come  in 
here," 


EGAN  269 

Macklin  snatched  at  his  arm. 

"  Adams !  You  fool !  Shut  that  door  f  Keep  that 
fellow  out  of  here !  " 

Egan  appeared,  pajama  clad,  on  the  threshold. 
"Want  me,  Uncle  Stanley?" 

"  You  bet !  Sit  down,  Kent.  You  too,  Macklin. 
Hold  'em,  Bronson  !  " 

The  two  visitors,  barred  by  Egan's  hundred  and 
eighty  pounds  of  energy,  halted.  Kent  was  apoplectic. 
"  Adams,  if  you  .  ,   .  this  is  the  most  damnable  — " 

"Hold  'em,  Bronson.  Don't  let  'em  get  out  just 
yet.     I  just  want  you  to  hear : — " 

"  Shut  up !     Shut  up,  or  by  God !  I'll  make  you  — " 

"  They  want  me  to  go  back  on  the  Times  and  support 
Eddie,  or—" 

"  Adams,  I've  warned  you !  " 

"  Or  they'll  tell  what  I  almost  told  you  —  at  the 
club  an  hour  ago."  Kent  relaxed.  Macklin's  mouth 
dropped  in  a  feeble  smile.  Adams,  his  mouth  working, 
went  on  relentlessly. 

"  That  two  years  ago,  after  a  newspaper  party  in 
Hoboken,  when  nobody  was  quite  sober,  I  —  I  got  mar- 
ried. On  a  bet,  they  said  afterward.  I  don't  really 
know." 

Kent  looked  over  at  Egan.  "  To  a  chorus-girl, 
Bronson.  Aren't  you  proud  of  your  friend.''  Well  — 
that  settles  it.  Tit  for  tat.  Go  on  and  print  your 
story.     We'U  print  ours.     Come  on,  Eddie." 

"  Not  quite  yet."  Egan  had  put  his  back  to  the 
door.  "  What  do  you  gentlemen  think  you're  going 
to  do  now.''  " 

"  That's  our  affair ;  not  yours." 


270  EGAN 

Egan's  brain  was  working  backward,  and  finding 
items  of  value.  Today's  talk  with  Henderson  had  fixed 
two  incidents  in  his  mind. 

"  Oh,  but  since  this  is  a  family  party  .  .  .  Eddie, 
why  haven't  you  ever  been  to  see  me  since  that  last 
night  we  spent  together  at  Mr.  Kent's  house.''  Isn't 
that  something  that  ought  to  be  aired,  too  ?  " 

The  room  was  vibrant  with  silence.  Adams  had  gone 
over  and  sat  down  limply  on  the  bed,  his  head  in  his 
hands.     Macklin  was  stone. 

"  Bronson,"  said  Mr.  Kent  with  difficulty,  "  you  and 
I  are  too  old  friends  to  stand  here  bickering  like  this. 
If  these  other  two  want  to  fight,  let's  you  and  I  drop 
out  of  it.  I've  simply  beaten  Adams  at  his  own  game. 
He  tried  to  blackmail  Eddie,  and  I  — " 

Egan  nodded  at  Macklin.  "  Told  Mr.  Kent  about 
Charlie  Feinberg,  yet?  " 

The  prospective  mayor  gulped.  **  Y-yes,  Bronson. 
That's  all  right." 

Mr.  Kent  looked  from  one  to  the  other.  "  Maybe  it 
is  —  and  maybe  it  isn't.  Eddie  says  ...  go  ahead, 
Bronson." 

"ShaUI,  Eddie.?" 

Macklin,  driven  to  desperation,  shook  his  head  in  a 
jerk  of  hysteria.  Kent,  staring  at  him,  smiled  crook- 
edly. "  By  God !  "  he  said,  "  I  believe  you  lied  to  me 
about  that,  too !  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Kent  —  no,  I  didn't  — " 

"  We'll  see.     Bronson  — " 

Adams  lifted  his  head  from  his  hands.  "  Chase  *em 
out,  Bronson.  My  head  aches.  I  can't  go  this  any 
longer.     Chase  'em  out,  will  you.''  " 


EGAN  ^1 

Egap.  stepped  aside  from  the  door.  "  As  long  as  it's 
Adams's  room,  gentlemen — " 

Kent  had  snatched  up  his  hat.  "  Can  I  see  you  a 
minute?  " 

"  Not  tonight,  I'm  afraid." 

"  Tomorrow  morning?  " 

"  I'll  be  out  at  Sanford." 

"  Tomorrow  night?  No,  Monday  night?  If  I  tele- 
phone and  confirm  it?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  My  house?  " 

"  That'll  do." 

"  Come  along,  Eddie.  .  .  ." 

After  a  long  pause,  Egan  went  over  and  put  his  hand 
on  the  journalist's  shoulder. 

..."  I  heard  you  givin'  'em  hell,  Bronson.  Good 
boy.  .  .  .  Oh,  what  a  hog-pen  of  a  world !  They  tried 
to  club  me,  did  they?  .  .  .  Look  in  the  top  drawer  of 
my  bureau.  .  .  .  See?  .  .  .  Tried  to  club  me  to  kill 
that,  and  let  Eddie.  .  .  .  Newspaper  work's  an  awful 
strain,  Bronson.  .  .  .  You  use  up  so  much  energy  you 
take  to  stimulants  to  keep  going.  You  get  to  drinking. 
I  did.  .  .  .  Not  any  to  hurt.  Just  enough  to  put  the 
brilliancy  into  you.  .  .  .  Two  o'clock  in  the  morning 
brilliancy  —  you  can't  get  it  any  other  way.  But  once 
I  went  too  far;  I  had  a  row  with  the  city  editor  and 
I  got  fired.  I  guess  that  was  bad  for  me.  It  made 
me  sort  of  belligerent.  I  said  to  myself  I  didn't  need 
to  take  any  back  talk  from  anybody  —  and  I  didn't. 
That  made  trouble.  I  could  get  a  job  easy  enough, 
but  I  sort  of  kept  getting  fired.     Same  old  thing  — 


872  EGAN 

I'd  get  tired,  and  then  I'd  get  an  edge,  and  then  I'd 
have  a  row  and  get  through.  .  .  .  The  Old  Man  never 
knew  that.  I  didn't  write  about  it.  I  guess  I  was  on 
every  paper  in  New  York.  Bye  and  bye  I  hit  bottom. 
Worst  sheet  in  New  York  —  simply  rotten.  I  used  to 
feel  ashamed  to  have  to  read  my  own  stuff  in  it.  The 
way  I  salved  myself  was  to  say  that  my  stuff  was  my 
stuff,  and  the  character  of  the  paper  couldn't  hurt  it. 
It  was  awful  yellow,  Bronson.  .  .  .  Once  they  wanted 
a  sensational  inside  story  about  the  hop  joints  — 
opium,  you  know.  So  I  thought  I'd  do  a  de  Quincey 
on  the  side.  Make  it  realistic.  De  Quincey  at  the 
corner  of  Mott  and  Pell  streets.  .  .  .  Don't  be  scared ; 
I  haven't  got  the  habit.  .  .  .  But  I  was  in  a  public 
ward  for  about  a  month.  Sort  of  poisoned.  When  I 
got  out  I  was  all  shaky.  I  had  about  ten  dollars  left 
and  no  job.  There  wasn't  a  place  for  me  anywhere  in 
New  York.  Had  to  get  a  couple  of  drinks  to  put  me 
on  my  feet. 

"  I  met  some  acquaintances  in  a  saloon,  and  they  sent 
for  some  of  theirs,  and  we  had  a  party.  ...  I  got 
married  that  night.  I  heard  afterwards  it  was  a  dare, 
but  one  man  says  it  was  a  bet.  ...  .  It  was  in  Jersey. 
After  it  was  all  over,  I  tried  to  figure  it  out  —  what  to 
do.  I  was  crazier  than  when  I'd  gone  to  Bellevue. 
She  liked  the  idea  of  being  married  —  it  was  so  sort 
of  respectable.  She's  playing  in  high-class  burlesque. 
She  won't  get  a  divorce,  and  I  can't.  I  couldn't  get 
any  more  jobs  in  New  York,  so  I  came  home.  .  .  . 
She's  never  taken  any  money  from  me  —  won't  take 
any.  You  see,  she  might  be  worse.  Not  much  —  but 
some.     She's  let  me  alone  pretty  well.  .  .  .  I've  never 


EGAN  278 

seen  her  since.  But  I've  got  that  on  my  mind,  Bron- 
son.  On  my  mind.  .  .  .  Well,  the  cat's  out  of  the  bag 
now.  I  knew  it  would  come  sometime.  They  tried  to 
club  me  with  it.  Kent  did.  Now  you  know.  .  .  . 
What're  you  going  to  do  about  it?  " 

Egan's  face  was  putty.  He  put  out  his  hand  again 
to  the  journalist's  shoulder. 

"  Why  —  help  —  if  I  can,"  he  said,  under  his  breath. 


XXIII 

THE  day  opened  gloriously,  flooding  the  world 
with  strong  December  sunshine  and  a  flippant 
little  breeze  from  westward.  Even  the  sombre 
precincts  of  the  old  Egan  mansion  responded  to  it,  once 
the  morning  had  rushed  through  the  lofty  windows, 
and  taken  the  citadel  by  storm.  It  was  a  day  of  whip- 
ping curtains,  when  the  long,  white  draperies  floated 
inward  and  danced  in  mid-air;  refusing  to  be  quelled 
except  by  strictures  on  the  ventilation.  To  be  sure, 
Mr.  Wilson  complained  that  he  had  been  kept  awake 
all  night  by  the  constant  rustling,  and  Mr.  Pennypacker 
lectured  from  the  almanac  on  the  behaviour  of  air  cur- 
rents, but  breakfast  was  more  cheerful,  nevertheless. 
Judge  Perkins  was  too  sprightly  to  reflect  upon  the 
immortality  of  the  soul,  and  Adams,  after  a  week  of 
profound  despondency,  was  alert  again.  Even  Mrs. 
McCain  managed  to  relax  a  degree  or  two  of  her  oval 
tension,  and  Millicent  wore  the  expression  of  a  lady 
in  mourning  who  has  worn  mourning  almost  too  long. 

Judge  Perkins  and  Egan  walked  down  town  together. 

*'  Bronson,"  said  the  Honourable  George  suddenly, 
"  how  much  have  you  thought  about  this  circus  per- 
formance of  Eddie  Macklin's?  At  our  house,  I  mean. 
Stanley's  campaign  bomb." 

"  A  good  deal,"  said  Egan. 

"How'd  it  aff'ect  you?" 

"  Why  —  the  way  it  naturally  would,  I  suppose." 

"  If  it  has,"  said  Perkins,  "  you're  barking  up  the 

wrong  tree.     I'd  just  quit." 

274 


EGAN  276 

Egan  regarded  him  without  comment. 

*'  Once  I  reminded  you,"  said  the  old  lawyer,  "  that 
when  you  once  get  to  hating  a  man,  you  hate  him  all 
over.  Of  course  you  do.  Everybody  does.  That's 
why  a  jail-bird  finds  it  so  hard  to  get  another  chance. 
Nobody'll  hire  an  ex-bank-robber  for  a  shipping  clerk 
for  fear  he  might  steal  some  of  the  stencil-ink.  And 
so  on.  When  as  a  matter  of  fact  —  you  see  what 
I'm  driving  at  about  Eddie.'*  " 

"  I  think  so."     Egan  was  non-committal. 

"  Right  this  minute,"  said  the  Judge,  "  Eddie's 
safer  behind  his  reputation  than  you'd  be  if  you'd 
turned  the  same  trick  he  did.  An  established  reputa- 
tion's an  awful  hard  thing  to  beat,  even  in  politics. 
And  campaigns  are  so  rough,  everything's  discounted, 
anyway.  You  used  to  be  something  of  a  lady's  man, 
and  Eddie's  supposed  to  be  an  ascetic.  Excuse  my 
making  it  personal.  But  Stanley's  got  it  in  his  mind 
to  make  a  big  hoorah-boys  about  it,  sometime  before 
election,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  get  the  idea  into  your 
head  that  there's  anything  in  it.  There  isn't.  It  won't 
beat  Eddie.  Either  politically  or  —  personally,  as  re- 
gards you  and  me.     What  does  it  signify  ?  " 

"  It  signifies  that  Eddie's  a  bit  of  a  cad,  anyhow." 

"  It  don't  even  signify  that !  I  tell  you,  if  we  made 
a  law  —  say,  that  no  man  could  ever  hold  public  office 
that  had  ever  kissed  another  girl  after  he  was  engaged 
or  while  his  wife  was  alive  —  lordy !  Wouldn't  politics 
be  simple!  You'd  have  to  advertise  to  get  congress- 
men. Nonsense.  One  of  the  damnedest,  cussedest 
things  in  this  whole  rotten  life  of  ours  is  what  decent 
people  like  to  suspect  about  people  that's  just  as  decent 


276  EGAN 

as  they  are.  And  more?  Who  in  the  world  hasn't 
made  a  mistake?  And  that's  about  all  Eddie  did. 
There  wasn't  any  moral  obliquity  in  it,  I'll  bet.  And 
you  get  a  sight  farther  along  if  you  just  look  for  nat- 
ural things.  You  feel  a  lot  cleaner-minded  yourself.  I 
know." 

Egan  was  silent  for  half  a  block. 

"  Stanley  had  an  idea  that  he  could  use  that  as  a 
lever,  and  maybe  make  Eddie  tell  a  few  things.  I 
wasn't  very  strong  for  it,  myself.     But  — " 

"  He's  passed  it  on  to  the  right  people  already,  and 
they're  holding  it  in  reserve.  But  that's  neither  here 
nor  there.  What  are  we  after,  boy?  I  don't  give  a 
continental  cuss  what  Eddie's  morals  are.  They  don't 
concern  me,  or  you,  either." 

"  Yes,  they  do." 

"  Well,  then  that's  your  business.  But  what  Stanley 
and  I  are  after  mainly  is  to  find  out  whether  anybody 
deliberately  steered  The  Egan  Company  onto  the  rocks. 
If  they  did,  then  we're  going  to  be  in  a  position  to 
collect  something.  If  they  didn't,  we  aren't.  The  only 
morals  of  the  other  fellow  that  concern  me  are  the 
morals  he  followed  in  this  particular  business.  Now 
we're  all  working  together,  instead  of  everybody  think- 
ing he's  the  only  one  that's  trying  to  protect  you,  we're 
out  on  the  trail  of  a  big  discovery,  and  Stanley  goes 
and  gets  sidetracked  on  nothing.  Let  him  be  Mayor. 
That  won't  save  him." 

Egan  nodded.  "  I'm  half  inclined  to  believe  you  on 
that.     But  it  doesn't  make  me  like  Eddie  any  better." 

"  Oh,  damn ! "  said  the  lawyer  pathetically. 
"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?     Well,  good  luck  to 


EGAN  m 

you.     Be  sure  to  come  to  lunch  at  one.     1*11  have  seen 
the  receiver  then,  and  got  the  latest  news  for  you." 

Intrinsically,  it  was  a  beautiful  Monday,  but  it 
would  have  seemed  no  less  beautiful  to  Egan  if  it  had 
been  raining  cats  and  dogs.  As  he  continued  his  way 
down-town,  he  was  scarcely  aware  of  the  multitude  of 
joyous  fancies  mushrooming  in  his  brain.  He  was 
fairly  tingling  with  energy ;  his  grip  on  life  was  almost 
a  physical  grip.  His  eagerness  was  partly  mental  and 
partly  muscular ;  he  was  as  excited  as  when  he  had  first 
set  out  for  flying  school  —  when  he  felt  like  running 
the  last  hundred  yards  to  headquarters,  not  because 
he  would  gain  anything  material  by  running,  but  be- 
cause the  compulsion  of  his  joy  went  to  his  feet.  And 
now  that  he  had  turned  his  case  against  Macklin  over 
to  the  Judge  and  Adams,  he  had  released  just  so  much 
energy  to  be  happy  with. 

In  the  elevator,  it  was  all  that  he  could  do  to  repress 
his  impatience.  His  blood  was  warm  with  animation. 
His  mouth  was  set  in  a  wide  smile  which  almost  ached. 
And  yet,  for  the  first  time  since  his  return  to  Plainfield, 
his  self-apprehension  amounted  to  pure  modesty.  The 
opening  of  the  door  at  the  proper  landing  sent  a  pinch- 
ing throb  to  his  heart. 

He  emerged  into  a  reverberating  chaos  of  activity. 
Here  and  there,  partitions  of  new  wood  were  already  in 
place,  many  of  them  rising  independently  like  illustra- 
tions in  the  plane  geometry.  New  office  furniture  stood 
about  at  random,  piles  of  it.  The  floor  was  littered 
with  fragrant  sawdust  and  shavings ;  and  the  depth  was 
slowly  increasing  as   a  score  of  carpenters,  blocking 


278  EGAN 

the  passages  with  saw-horses,  trimmed  yet  more  parti- 
tions, and  in  the  process,  made  the  human  voice  incon- 
sequential. Little  groups  of  men  stood  talking  and 
watching;  Egan  recognized  some  of  them.  They 
seemed  also  to  be  uplifted  by  the  stimulus  of  construc- 
tion; childishly  impetuous  to  get  the  work  done,  and 
yet  childishly  happy  to  stand  idle  and  watch  it  being 
done  by  others. 

"  Mr.  Egan  ?  "  One  of  the  watchers  had  detached 
himself  and  come  forward.  "  Glad  to  see  you.  I'm 
Mr.  Hoyt.  Sorry  I  was  out  when  you  called  Friday. 
Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it?  " 

"  Great,"  said  Egan,  as  he  shook  hands  with  the 
Treasurer. 

"  They're  getting  along  bit  by  bit  —  we  ought  to 
be  pretty  well  settled  by  Wednesday.  Some  of  the 
offices  are  ready  now.  I  think  yours  is.  Want  to 
have  a  look  at  it  .'*  .  .  .  Let's  meet  some  of  the  other  men 
first,  though."  He  beckoned  to  the  group  he  had  just 
left.  "  Oh,  King !  and  everybody  else !  Come  over 
here  a  second.  I  want  you  to  meet  Mr.  Egan.  He's 
the  son  of  his  father.  He's  going  to  run  the  flying 
end  for  us." 

Egan  shook  hands  with  three  affable  young  men  who 
seemed  fully  as  excited  as  he  was,  himself.  He  shook 
hands,  less  pleasurably,  with  Henry  Luke.  The  fifth 
man,  a  grey-haired  personage  with  his  hat  on  the  back 
of  his  head,  needed  no  introduction.  He  was  Richards, 
one  of  the  former  directors  of  The  Egan  Company. 
Egan  had  known  him  slightly  for  twenty  years,  but 
Richards,  for  all  he  acknowledged  at  the  moment,  might 
have  been  an  utter  stranger. 


EGAN  279 

"  Well,  young  man,"  he  said,  raising  his  voice  to 
carry  over  the  bang  and  droning  of  the  carpenters, 
"  how  many  brand-new  ideas  did  you  bring  with  you?  " 

Egan  looked  at  him,  and  saw  that  he  wasn't  smiling. 

"  Brand-new  ideas?  "  he  echoed. 

Richards  motioned  briskly. 

"  Ideas.  That's  what  you're  here  for.  Don't  for- 
get it.  You're  very  young  for  your  job.  Ideas  are 
all  that  count.  Hope  you  make  good."  He  nodded 
stiffly,  and  turned  away.  Egan  discovered  that  Henry 
Luke  was  grinning  at  him. 

"  Come  look  at  your  office,"  said  Mr.  Hoyt,  taking 
his  arm.  "  Don't  mind  Richards,"  he  added,  in  a  lower 
voice.  "  That's  his  way.  He  likes  to  shake  young  men 
up  a  bit,  and  watch  how  they  react.  He  thinks  it's 
medicinal,  I  guess." 

Egan,  picking  his  way  through  heaps  of  wainscoting 
material,  was  amused.     "  That's  all  right." 

Hoyt  steered  him  through  a  labyrinth  of  partitions 
to  an  open  space.  "  Here  you  are.  Right  next  to  me. 
It  isn't  awfully  big,  but  it'll  do  for  awhile,  don't  you 
think?" 

To  Egan,  it  was  palatial.  It  was  a  room  perhaps 
ten  feet  by  fifteen,  on  the  side  of  the  building,  looking 
out  over  lower  structures  to  the  west.  There  was  light 
in  plenty.  Two  or  three  shining  flat-topped  oak  desks 
were  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  with  smaller,  steno- 
graphic desks  piled  atop.  A  big  table  in  one  corner  was 
burdened  with  vertical  files,  chairs,  waste  baskets,  and 
a  dozen  or  more  of  wire  correspondence  trays. 

"  You'll  have  an  office  down  at  the  field,  too,  but 
that'll  be  just  for  occasions.     Not  much  more  than 


280  EGAN 

desk-room.     This  is  where  you'll  be  regularly.     Name 
on  the  door,  and  everything." 

Egan  turned  to  the  ground-glass  door  which  had 
been  swung  inward  against  the  wall.  It  bore,  in  letters 
hardly  dry,  the  gold-leafed  inscription: 

DIRECTOR  OF  FLYING  OPERATIONS 
LIEUTENANT  BRONSON  EGAN 

Pleased,  but  uncertain,  he  turned  back  to  Hoyt. 

"  I'm  out  of  the  service  now,  you  know." 

Hoyt  bobbed  his  head. 

"  Yes,  but  it's  an  asset.  We're  going  to  use  all 
those  military  titles  for  a  while,  anyway.  It's  common 
enough  in  a  complimentary  sense.  Has  been  ever  since 
the  Civil  War.  It  won't  hurt  you  any.  Now  you  see 
there's  a  connecting  door  into  my  room.  You  and  I 
and  Richards  are  sort  of  supposed  to  be  a  sort  of  cen- 
tral committee  — " 

"  Control  Board?  " 

"  That's  it.  You  ought  to  be  a  big  help  to  us  in 
organization.  This  thing  ought  to  be  worked  on  more 
or  less  military  lines.  .  .  .  Well,  we  three  are  supposed 
to  work  pretty  much  together.  Flying,  Finance,  and 
Administration.  If  I  were  you,  the  first  thing  I'd  do 
would  be  to  get  up  an  organization  chart  of  your  own 
department,  to  show  just  what  you  think  you're  going 
to  need,  and  then  I'd  get  up  one  for  the  whole  works. 
That's  the  sort  of  stuff  Richards  likes.  Something 
concrete.     You  want  to  stand  in  with  Richards." 

"  How  about  my  personnel  ?  " 

**  Hire  it  yourself.     We  figured  you  could  do  with 


EGAN  281 

two  stenos,  and  a  clerk  to  start.  I'll  give  you  the 
salary  limits.  Get  'em  where  you  can.  And  I've  got 
about  a  thousand  pilots'  applications  to  look  over  as 
Boon's  you're  ready." 

"  I'm  not  expected  to  hire  the  pilots,  am  I  ?  "  He 
was  oppressed  by  the  responsibility. 

"  You  hire  the  pilots,  but  the  Maintenance  Depart- 
ment hires  the  mechanics  and  so  on." 

"  Then  my  j  ob,  as  I  see  it  — " 

Hoyt  waved  his  hand.  "  Your  job  is  to  get  the  ships 
from  one  place  to  another  on  time.  Maintenance  fur- 
nishes the  ships  in  proper  condition.  Traffic  loads  and 
unloads  'em.  Supply  gives  you  fuel.  Maintenance 
gives  you  landing  fields.  You  get  the  ships  there  and 
back.  How  you're  going  to  do  it,  I  don't  know.  Per- 
sonally, I  don't  know  the  difference  between  an  aileron 
and  a  triplane.  That's  what  you're  here  for."  Hoyt 
sat  down  on  the  edge  of  one  of  the  desks.  "  You'll  get 
all  your  instructions  in  plenty  of  time.  There  won't 
be  any  actual  business  until  spring,  of  course.  But  as 
long  as  I've  got  you  here  .  .  .  Richards  doesn't  think 
the  express  and  passenger  business  is  all  there  is  to  it 
by  a  long  shot.  He  has  all  sorts  of  ideas.  He  thinks 
there  are  countless  sidelines  we  can  make  a  profit  on. 
Maybe  he's  right.  I'd  advise  you  to  think  over  the 
possibilities.  Get  up  a  list  of  everything  you  can  scare 
up  for  the  Company  to  do.  Maybe  we'U  do  some  con- 
sulting work  as  aeronautical  engineers.  We  can  give 
lessons  in  flying.  We  can  act  as  agents  for  sport  and 
commercial  planes.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we've  got 
state  agencies  for  six  or  seven  of  them  already.  We 
can  write  insurance ;  our  charter  covers  that,  too.     We 


282  EGAN 

can  sell  accessories.  We  can  get  up  sight-seeing  trips, 
and  rent  ships  for  long-distance  parties.  We  can  have 
exhibitions.  We  can  get  up  advertising  stunts.  We 
can  write  aerial  insurance.  There's  dozens  of  things 
that  might  fit  in.  Well  —  you're  the  doctor  on  the 
flying  end  of  it.  Go  to  it,  and  let's  see  what  you  think 
up." 

His  brief  outline  had  pushed  Egan's  perspective  al- 
most out  of  sight.  "  You're  going  to  try  to  do  all 
these  things  at  once.?  " 

Hoyt  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Why  not  ?  The 
men  who've  put  money  into  this  concern  aren't  pikers. 
They've  all  got  other  businesses.  They  can  afford  to 
lose  every  nickel  they've  put  into  this.  It  isn't  a  ques- 
tion of  playing  safe ;  they'd  rather  run  it  so  as  to  have 
the  company  either  flat  broke  or  paying  fifty  per  cent, 
right  off  the  reel.  Of  course,  it's  an  experiment.  .  .  . 
I  doubt  if  this  air  business  follows  the  old  line  of  least 
resistance.  You  take  the  bicycle  business.  I  guess 
you're  too  young  to  remember  that,  though  —  well,  it 
started  slowly,  and  then  overnight  there  were  five  hun- 
dred companies  competing  all  at  once.  There  was  a 
hot  competition,  and  all  but  two  or  three  of  the  biggest 
ones  went  broke.  The  automobile  business  got  going 
the  same  way,  and  it's  finishing  the  same  way.  Now 
the  airplane  business  is  different.  Publicity's  come 
into  it.  The  people  who  manufactured  battle  planes 
have  had  so  much  free  advertising  during  the  war  that 
people  who  start  manufacturing  now  may  never  catch 
up.  I'm  no  expert,  by  a  long  shot,  but  you  talk  about 
the  Liberty  Engine,  or  the  Hispano-Suiza,  and  I've 
heard  enough  to  know  they're  good.     You  talk  Hand- 


EGAN  ^3 

ley-Page,  or  Caproni,  or  De  Haviland  to  me,  and  it's 
the  same  thing.  Well,  the  public's  familiar  with  these 
names,  and  it'll  take  an  awful  long  time  to  forget. 
And  I  believe  that  the  first  transportation  companies 
to  cash  in  on  all  that  publicity,  by  specializing  in  ships 
and  engines  that  everybody  knows  won  the  war,  '11  have 
the  inside  track  right  from  the  start,  provided  they  go 
out  in  a  big,  broad  way.  This  isn't  any  question  of 
building  up  a  future  the  way  the  pony  express  devel- 
oped into  the  Wells-Fargo  business ;  we're  starting  off 
big,  and  if  there's  any  merit  in  the  idea,  we  ought  to 
win  out.  So  we're  going  to  jump  in  all  over,  and 
capitalize  the  publicity  —  and  squeeze  every  cent  out 
of  it  while  the  going's  good."  • 
Egan  drew  a  long  breath. 
"  There's  plenty  to  do,  then,  all  right." 
*'  Plenty  for  everybody,  especially  you.  .  .  .  Here's 
your  office,  and  you  can  fix  it  up  to  suit  yourself.  Get 
some  stenographers  tomorrow.  Wade  in.  Look  over 
the  applications  from  pilots,  and  get  'em  in  some  sort 
of  order.  Start  on  your  charts.  Of  course  you'll  have 
to  keep  in  touch  with  the  other  departments,  and  you'll 
want  to  swing  around  the  circle  of  the  seven  cities  once 
or  twice  in  the  next  month  or  so  to  keep  your  eye  on 
the  diflPerent  fields,  and  get  the  hang  of  it  —  By  the 
way,  I'd  run  out  to  the  one  here  this  afternoon,  if  I 
were  you.  It  hasn't  got  a  name  yet  —  none  of  'em 
have.  That's  something  we'll  all  have  to  think  about. 
We'll  have  a  young  fleet  of  automobiles  to  run  us  back 
and  forth  in.  Just  introduce  yourself  to  the  men  on 
the  field,  and  you  can  have  whatever  you  want.  There's 
an  ex-Lieutenant  in   charge :  his  name's  Utley  —  the 


284  EGAN 

man  that  flew  here  in  Fair  Week.  He's  a  nice  boy. 
He'll  be  your  right-hand  man  out  there.  Now  let's 
look  through  the  other  offices.  .  .  .  We've  had  to  rent 
another  floor  already,  and  maybe  we'll  need  three. 
Watch  out  for  nails.  .  .  ." 

From  the  instant  that  he  stepped  from  the  little  tour- 
ing car  to  the  level  of  the  old  farm  now  in  process  of 
transformation  to  a  flying  field,  Egan  was  completely, 
irresponsibly  happy.  The  cares  and  the  problems  of 
his  other  life  sUpped  away  from  him.  The  very  air 
tasted  differently.  It  was  a  commercial  flying  field,  but 
a  flying  field  nevertheless.  He  felt  almost  the  same 
numb,  terrified,  jealous  pleasure  as  when  his  moniteur 
had  first  pointed  to  the  clipped-wing  Penguin  in  which 
he  was  to  take  his  first  flying  instruction.  He  was 
desperately  apprehensive  of  his  own  ability,  but  he 
wouldn't  have  missed  for  all  the  world  the  opportunity 
to  test  it. 

The  raw  bones  of  several  hangars  were  already  glis- 
tening white  in  the  sunshine,  and  the  skeleton  work  of 
other  buildings  —  shops,  warehouses,  administrative 
offices  —  was  under  way.  The  old  farmhouse  was  be- 
ing remodelled  for  storage  purposes.  Beneath  a  tem- 
porary housing  of  canvas  stood  an  old  training  plane, 
and  Egan's  heart  jumped  as  he  saw  it. 

"  That's  our  pathfinder,"  said  a  pleasant  voice  be- 
side him.  Egan  met  the  friendly  grin  of  a  sun-burned 
young  man  in  flannel  shirt,  whipcord  breeches  and  put- 
tees. The  young  man  was  very  debonair,  with  a  Gallic- 
looking  black  moustache,  but  he  had  an  efficient  manner 
and  Egan  liked  him  spontaneously.     "  You're  Lieuten- 


EGAN  285 

ant  Egan,  aren't  you?     I'm  Utley  —  in  charge  of  the 
field.     Almost  said  '  O.I.C  " 

They  shook  hands  firmly. 

"  Where  were  you  ?  "  asked  Egan. 

"  Me?  Oh,  I  never  got  over.  I  was  one  of  the  eight- 
een million  ofl!icers  who  were  under  orders  when  the 
armistice  was  signed.  I  was  in  the  Canadians  —  vol- 
unteered up  there,  and  got  a  transfer  back  here.  Stunt 
instructor  in  Texas  most  of  the  time." 

Egan  nodded,  and  sidled  towards  the  old  plane,  his 
fingers  itching. 

"  I  never  drove  one  of  those  things.  .  .  ." 

Utley  laughed.  "  Well,  I  never  drove  much  of  any- 
thing else.  I  began  on  it.  They  put  us  through  in 
Canada  on  the  sink  or  swim  system.  I  had  ninety  min- 
utes dual  before  they  gave  me  a  ship  and  told  me  to 
take  her  up."  He  laughed  again.  "  Got  off  the 
ground  somehow  —  Heaven  knows  how ;  /  don't.  They 
told  me  to  circle  the  field  three  times  at  2,000  feet  and 
come  down.  I  circled  it  three  times  and  couldn't  re- 
member how  to  get  down.  Bye-and-bye  I  got  my  nerve 
and  pushed  over  the  stick." 

"  With  power  ?  "     Egan  was  humorously  interested. 

"  You  bet !  She  dived,  and  I  was  standing  on  the 
rudder.  Zowie !  I  was  scared  to  death.  So  I  hauled 
the  stick  back  and  the  next  thing  I  knew  I  was  circling 
the  field  at  3,000.  Went  around  some  more  and  tried 
it  again.  Same  result.  Dived  —  and  came  to  at 
4,000.  Once  more,  and  I  was  circling  at  5,500.  It 
was  getting  along  towards  dusk.  I  had  to  get  down. 
But  I  couldn't  remember  what  to  do.  Bye-and-bye  I 
thought  of  the  gun.     So  I  tried  it  out,  and  got  into  a 


286  EGAN 

glide,  and  took  the  banks  all  right,  and  I  was  down  to 
about  1,500  when  right  under  me  I  saw  another  Hun 
crash.  Woof !  Gave  her  the  gun  —  and  up  to  3,000 
again."  He  laughed  gleefully.  "  When  I  did  land,  I 
cut  right  in  front  of  the  line,  and  never  hit  a  thing. 
Almost  pitch  dark,  too.  That's  the  way  they  taught 
us  in  the  early  days.  .  .  .  Want  to  take  her  up  for  a 
little  jazz?" 

"  I  ought  not  to,"  said  Egan,  regretfully. 

"  Oh,  come  on !  .  .  .  She's  all  right.  Of  course, 
after  your  experience  — " 

Egan  swallowed  hard.  "  That's  not  it.  Got  some 
spare  goggles  ?     I  really  ought  not  to,  but  — " 

"  I've  got  everything.  It's  warm  as  toast  up  to 
3,000,  and  these  old  buses  are  slower  than  tar,  anyway. 
Lend  you  a  winter  flying  suit  if  you  want  it.  Come 
on!" 

Egan  looked  at  the  sky.  His  heart  was  thumping 
heavily  against  his  ribs,  and  to  his  own  astonishment, 
his  breathing  was  rapid. 

"  I  came  out  to  look  over  the  field.     I  — " 

"  Well,  you've  seen  all  you  can  see  from  here.  Come 
upstairs  and  get  a  new  slant  at  it.  We'll  go  out  a  few 
miles  and  I'll  show  you  where  we  plan  to  put  our  guide 
marks.  Big  white  arrows  with  an  A  at  one  end  and  a  T 
at  the  other.     Made  out  of  granolithic.     Come  on." 

Egan  climbed  up  to  peer  into  the  "  office  " —  the  for- 
ward cockpit.  The  plane  compared  with  his  old  ma- 
chine as  a  buggy  compares  with  a  racing  car,  but  the 
principle  was  there,  just  the  same,  and  the  possibility. 

"  For  .  .  .  for  just  twenty  minutes,"  he  said,  hesi- 
tantly.    "  I  really  ought  not  to,  but  — " 


EGAN  287 

"  You're  on.  You  stay  here.  I've  got  a  spare  out- 
fit in  the  shack.  I'll  take  her  up,  and  then  you  can 
show  me  something." 

Something  came  up  into  Egan's  throat,  and  choked 
him. 

"  Contact !  "  said  Utley,  in  the  rear  cockpit. 

"  Contact !  "  echoed  Egan. 

He  released  the  propeller  and  leaped  aside.  The 
heavy  mahogany  blades  gave  a  curious  lethargic  start, 
like  the  involuntary  movement  of  a  fat  man,  and  slid 
into  easy  revolution,  with  the  engine  purring  softly. 
Egan,  transfigured,  kicked  away  the  blocks  from  the 
wheels,  and  climbed  to  his  seat.  The  propeller-wash 
flooded  him  as  he  snapped  his  belt;  and  he  loved  it. 
The  engine  was  turning  over  a  bare  six  hundred  revolu- 
tions per  minute,  but  firing  perfectly  on  all  cylinders. 
Utley  warmed  the  motor  thoroughly,  and  throttled 
down  for  a  second. 

"All  right?" 

"  Let  her  go  !  " 

The  engine  sprang  into  deafening  life,  flattening  the 
high,  dead  meadow  grass  for  a  hundred  feet  to  the 
rear,  and  sending  skyward  a  cloud  of  brown  dirt  in  its 
wake.  The  car  moved  forward,  not  with  the  grad- 
ually acquired  momentum  of  a  geared  automobile,  but 
in  a  sudden  burst  of  motion.  The  wheels  bumped  and 
rumbled  as  on  flat  tires.  Then  the  tail  lifted;  Utley 
had  gathered  flying  speed.  One  gentle  surge  upwards, 
and  Egan  was  looking  down  at  a  recessive  world.  His 
joy  was  as  impersonally  sensual  as  though  he  had  in- 
haled a  lungful  of  pure  ether.     Every  muscle  was  taut 


288  EGAN 

with  it.     He  wanted  to  shout  aloud  in  pure  abandon. 

The  pungent,  exotic  odour  of  burned  castor  oil  en- 
thralled him.  He  thrust  his  head  beyond  the  wind- 
shield for  the  mere  ecstasy  of  feeling  once  more  the  lash 
of  air  waves,  incomprehensibly  severe  except  to  those 
who  know  it.  Of  course,  this  little  ship  .  .  .  still,  he 
was  flying! 

The  needle  of  the  altimetre  pointed  to  the  figure 
2,000,  and  Egan  was  dumbfounded  until  he  remembered 
that  he  was  used  to  calculating  in  metres  instead  of 
feet.  He  gazed  out,  fascinated,  at  the  brown-green 
chessboard  of  the  earth.  Bands  of  silver  marked  the 
location  of  water-courses  he  had  never  known  to  exist. 
Behind  him,  Plainfield  was  a  toy  village  lurking  under  a 
veil  of  grey.  The  horizon  had  fled  immeasurably  dis- 
tant. 

The  roar  of  the  engine  diminished  to  a  throaty  purr, 
and  the  ship  rocked  lazily  in  the  swell  of  the  air.  Egan, 
grinning,  turned.  Utley,  grinning  back,  raised  his 
hands  high  above  his  head,  the  signal  to  "  take  her." 
Egan's  stomach  went  out  of  him  as  he  took  the  stick, 
and  put  his  feet  out  to  the  rudder. 

He  bethought  himself  of  a  page  from  Captain  James 
Nornfan  Hall's  "  High  Adventure."  It  was  about  the 
enchantment  of  just  such  moments.  **  A  world  planned 
and  laid  out  by  the  best  of  Santa  Clauses  for  the  eternal 
delight  of  all  good  children.  And  for  untold  genera- 
tions only  the  birds  have  had  the  privilege  of  seeing 
and  enj  oying  it  from  the  wing.  Small  wonder  that  they 
sing.  ..." 

Egan  felt  like  a  bird.  He  wanted  to  feel  still  more 
like  a  bird.     Delaying  only  until  he  had  the  "  feel "  of 


EGAN  289 

the  unusually  clumsy  ship  —  clumsy  because  he  was 
accustomed  to  the  best  on  earth  —  he  gently  pushed 
the  stick  forward  to  gather  excess  speed,  eased  it  back, 
and  as  the  nose  of  the  little  car  began  to  lift  in  response, 
pulled  the  stick  well  in  to  his  stomach.  His  brain  was 
almost  asleep  with  content.  A  sentence  from  his  school 
instructions  rolled  into  his  brain.  "  As  the  ground  is 
again  seen,  throttle  motor,  and  ease  gently  out  of  re- 
sultant nose  dive."     Egan  had  looped  the  loop. 

He  had  relentlessly  limited  himself  to  twenty  min- 
utes, and  he  filled  them  with  acrobatics  which  soothed 
his  soul.  He  turned  wing  over  wing,  and  fluttered  to- 
wards earth  like  a  wounded  swallow.  He  made  the 
retournement,  and  looped  again.  He  climbed  high, 
and  lost  by  successive  Immelmanns  the  altitude  he  had 
so  recently  gained.  He  sent  the  ship  to  rotating  on  its 
own  axis,  while  in  level  flight,  in  the  drunken  gyration 
of  the  barrel-roll.  He  dived,  and  spun,  and  rose  again, 
in  open  defiance  of  what  were  held  for  centuries  to  be  the 
inviolable  laws  of  nature.  At  last,  wearied  only  by  his 
own  reactions  to  the  sheer  pleasure  of  it,  he  slipped 
earthwards,  glided  into  the  field  from  a  broad  S,  and 
landed  as  surely  as  though  he  himself  had  worn  the 
fabric  wings,  and  managed  them  as  accurately  as  his 
arms.  He  taxied  around  a  circle,  and  brought  the  ma- 
chine to  rest  in  front  of  its  canvas  hangar.  The  en- 
gine stopped,  with  a  final  pufF  of  coal-black  smoke  from 
the  exhaust.  Egan  pushed  back  his  goggles,  and  un- 
strapped his  belt. 

"  Say ! "  said  Utley.  "  I  thought  I  was  going  to 
show  you  those  guide  marks  of  ours  1 " 

Egan  laughed  in  staccato. 


290  EGAN 

"  I'll  have  to  come  out  again  tomorrow  to  see  those," 
he  said. 

By  previous  agreement,  he  went  over  to  the  Plain- 
field  House  that  day  to  lunch  with  the  Honourable 
George  Perkins  and  Stanley  Adams.  Both  of  them 
had  news  for  him,  news  which  couldn't  wait  until  dinner 
time. 

"  I've  seen  Garrity  again,"  said  Adams.  "  Remem- 
ber I  said  he  told  me  he'd  lost  ten  thousand  dollars  on 
a  speculation?  Well,  I  took  a  chance  on  putting  it  up 
to  him,  and  I  was  right.  He  bought  Egan  stock,  too  — 
through  Eddie.  And  he  told  me  two  other  people  he 
knew  who'd  done  the  same  thing.  Pennypacker  was 
one  of  'em.  He  used  to  be  too  afraid  of  Eddie  to  talk 
about  it,  but  he's  got  a  new  angle;  he  says  Eddie's 
going  to  be  licked  and  he  wants  to  tie  himself  up  to 
the  winner ! " 

"  We're  getting  to  the  point,  Bronson,"  said  the 
Judge.  "  It's  beginning  to  be  clear  that  Eddie  per- 
suaded six  or  eight  comparatively  poor  people,  Mrs. 
McCain  and  Garrity  and  others,  to  chip  in  to  buy 
that  stock  from  the  Citizens  Trust,  so  that  he  or  his 
principals  wouldn't  appear  in  the  transaction,  and  got 
these  people  all  to  give  their  proxies,  which  he  voted 
at  the  annual  meeting  a  year  ago  October.  He  re- 
elected the  old  directorate,  putting  himself  on  it  in 
place  of  the  Old  Man,  and  the  old  directorate  made 
Garrity  president,  and  gave  him  free  rein.  Then  the 
company  went  on  the  rocks.  I'm  getting  surer  and 
surer  it  was  done  deliberately.  All  the  evidence  is  that 
way  — " 


EGAN  291 

"  Garrity  says  he  took  his  orders  from  Eddie," 
chimed  in  Adams. 

"  Exactly.  And  who  did  Eddie  take  his  orders 
from?  That  is,  if  he  took  'em  from  anybody?  Who 
would  possibly  be  interested  in  having  the  Egan  Com- 
pany crash  ?  Only  two  —  George  Kent  and  Martin 
Henderson." 

"  Sh-h !  "  said  Adams  suddenly.  They  were  seated 
in  the  main  dining-room,  and  the  daughter  of  George 
Kent  and  the  daughter  of  Martin  Henderson  had  just 
appropriated  a  none  too  distant  table.  Every  one 
bowed. 

"  More  likely  to  be  Henderson,"  said  the  Honour- 
able George  guardedly.  "  Old  Man  Egan  always  said 
he—" 

"  Kent's  tried  to  play  horse  with  me,"  said  Adams ; 
"  but  that  was  a  political  defence.  I  hardly  think 
he'd  go  so  far  as  to  try  sabotage.  And  Henderson  — 
well,  I'll  have  to  admit  I'm  getting  sort  of  sold  on  him, 
too.  Personally,  I  don't  believe  it  was  either  one  of 
'em.     It  was  Eddie  all  alone." 

Egan,  tasting  his  entree,  told  himself  that  it  cer- 
tainly looked  dark  for  Henderson.  He  wondered  if 
Henderson's  showy  kindness  to  him  had  been  mere  alibi. 
The  Kents  had  at  least  played  in  the  open.  All  he  had 
against  them  was  Mary's  fickleness,  and  the  colonel's 
attack  on  Adams  —  pure  politics.  But  Henderson  had 
got  him  this  chance  to  fly  again ;  and  it  harried  him  to 
think  of  giving  it  up.  He  hoped  to  find  that  Eddie 
had  worked  alone.  And  yet  there  was  Eddie's  individ- 
ual loss  of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars. 

"I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  it  turned  out  plain  bad 


292  EGAN 

management,"  he  said.  **  I  can't  see  where  we've  got 
grounds  for  suspecting  anybody  else  just  yet.  I've 
met  him  on  the  street  twice  since  the  other  night  and 
he's  dodged  me  both  times." 

Adams  and  the  Judge  exchanged  glances. 

"  The  one  bright  thing  about  it,"  said  the  Judge, 
"  is  that  the  receiver  says  the  company's  coming  out 
fine.  Henderson  bought  the  patents  for  a  big  price. 
It  looks  as  though  sooner  or  later  there'll  be  perhaps 
a  couple  of  hundred  thousand  for  the  stockholders." 

"Really.?" 

Egan  was  visited  by  a  delightful  thrill.  Nothing 
gives  a  young  man  quite  the  sense  of  mental  intoxica- 
tion that  the  unexpected  acquisition  of  money  does. 
And  he  had  rather  stopped  thinking  about  The  Egan 
Company;  he  had  certainly  stopped  thinking  about  it 
as  a  source  of  future  revenue.  In  the  hurly-burly  of 
his  present  business  affairs,  and  the  complexity  of  his 
personal  matters,  he  had  lost  much  of  his  interest  in 
the  past.  The  old  tragedy  had  become  weakened  in 
its  power  to  move  him,  financially  or  sentimentally.  At 
the  Honourable  George's  announcement  he  was  as  much 
startled,  and  exhilarated,  as  though  a  long-forgotten 
speculation  had  burst  into  glorious  bloom  like  Bethle- 
hem Steel  in  1915.  A  couple  of  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars.?    Why,  two-fifths  of  it  would  be  his! 

"  So  he  says.  And  that  means  that  the  McCains  and 
Garrity  and  the  other  lambs'll  get  back  as  much  as  they 
lost,  and  you'll  have  —  oh,  sixty  or  seventy  thousand, 
anyway.     But  not  for  a  year  or  more,  Bronson." 

Egan  was  thrilled  beyond  regret  that  the  salvage  was 
too  late  for  him  to  fulfil  his  independent  visionings. 


EGAN  «93 

"  That's  wonderful  ^"  he  said.     "  That's  wonderful." 

"  And  that  gives  jou  a  chance  to  be  a  real  philan- 
thropist, if  you  want  to.  Of  course,  you  don't  have 
to  —  but  the  failure  was  what  stopped  that  Milly  girl's 
education.  And  Lord  knows  she  needs  some  more. 
And  bearing  in  mind  what  Eddie's  proposition  was  — 
if  you  want  to  offer  to  loan  Mrs.  McCain  enough  to 
send  Milly  to  a  good  school  to  finish  with,  why,  I'll 
advance  you  the  money  temporarily.  It  just  seems 
sort  of  appropriate,  somehow.  It'll  only  be  a  loan. 
She'll  pay  it  back  when  she  gets  her  money,  and  I'll 
carry  you  in  the  meantime.  I  thought  you  might  like 
to  have  it  in  your  name." 

"  Yes,"  said  Egan  soberly.     "  I'd  like  to." 

"  One  more  talk  with  Garrity,"  said  Adams,  "  and 
if  I  give  him  that  information  —  maybe  we'll  have  the 
answer  out  of  him.  And  whether  it's  Kent  or  whether 
it's  Henderson,  it  nails  Eddie." 

"  Are  you  going  to  publish  what  we  all  know  about 
Eddie?" 

*'  The  day  after  he's  nominated,"  said  Adams  grimly. 
**  And  that'll  kill  his  mayoralty,  whether  we  get  the 
goods  on  him  the  other  way  or  not." 

"  Even  if  —  they  retaliate.?  " 

Adams  coloured. 

"  Oh,  what  difference  does  it  make  to  me.''  Ever 
since  you  knew  it,  I  feel  as  though  everything's  all 
right.'' 

"  Oh,  by  the  way.  Uncle  Stanley !  Is  there  anything 
in  sight  for  you  yet?  " 

"  A  real  j  ob  ?     No.     Got  one  for  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have.     Assistant." 


294  '  EGAN 

Adams's  eyes  brightened,  and  then  dulled.  "  Do  you 
think  that  crowd  would  stand  for  it?  " 

Egan  borrowed  some  of  Henderson's  vocabulary. 
"  When  I'm  put  in  charge  of  a  department,  I'll  take 
on  anybody  I  like,  and  get  an  O.  K.  afterward.  Be- 
sides, it's  a  great  chance  to  pick  up  ideas.  Didn't  you 
notice  that  every  one  of  the  old  Egan  directors,  and 
Henderson,  and  both  the  Herald  and  Times  men  are 
on  this  board?  What  did  you  think  I  went  into  it  for, 
if  it  wasn't  that?  " 

Adams  laughed,  and  nodded  toward  the  nearby  table. 

"  I'll  take  your  j  ob,  anyway,"  he  said,  "  provided 
you  don't  mind  a  teetotaller.  .  .  .  What?  Why,  sure; 
I've  cu^  out  the  booze !  Now  that  you  two  fellows  can 
talk  over  my  rotten  old  secret  with  me,  and  cheer  me 
up,  and  boost  me  along,  I  don't  seem  to  need  any  other 
stimulants  .  .  .  and  the  doctor  said  I  was  getting  liver 
trouble,  anyhow." 

Egan  put  his  elbows  on  the  table. 

**  I  won't  forget,"  he  said,  "  that  you  were  willing 
back  there,  to  leave  the  Times  and  come  in  with  me  on 
my  scheme  —  if  I'd  ever  started  it  —  when  you 
knew  — "  He  included  the  Judge  in  his  gesture  — 
"  when  both  of  you  knew  it  wouldn't  go.  ...  It  took 
me  a  long  time  to  realize  what  that  amounted  to.  I 
never  thought  it  was  anything  but  plain  business.  But 
when  I  woke  up,  and  saw  daylight.  .  .  .  Well,  if  you 
were  willing  to  stick  to  me  on  a  wild  gamble  just  be- 
cause I'm  I,  then  I'm  going  to  break  my  neck  for  you 
people,  just  because  you're  you." 

"  I  couldn't  let  you  go  it  alone,  Bronson  .  .  .  could 
I?" 


EGAN  295 

"  The  point  isn't  whether  you  could  or  not  .  .  .  you 
wouldn't.  Won't  you  come  in  and  help  me  now,  Uncle 
Stanley?" 

The  Judge  motioned  to  Adams.     "  Do  it,"  he  said. 

On  his  way  out,  Egan  stopped  at  the  table  where 
Martha,  as  it  appeared,  was  entertaining  Mary  Kent 
in  a  farewell  ceremony.  "  Yes,"  said  Martha,  not 
looking  at  him  as  directly  as  she  usually  did,  "  we're 
going  back  to  Dayton  tonight.  Father's  staying  over 
for  one  more  meeting.     Won't  you  sit  down.**  " 

Egan  declined,  with  profuse  apologies.  To  sit  be- 
tween these  two  girls  was  rather  too  much  of  an  ordeal. 
"  Did  you  find  a  house.''  " 

"  Yes,  rather  a  nice  one.  We're  to  move  in  the  first 
of  February." 

"  It'll  be  splendid  to  have  her  over  here,  won't  it, 
Bronson.''  " 

"  Oh  .  .  .  splendid,"  he  agreed. 

He  couldn't  decide  whether  it  was  more  difficult  to 
be  at  ease  with  the  daughter  of  Kent,  or  the  daughter 
of  Henderson.  Innocent  as  children,  both  of  them,  but 
the  father  of  one  or  the  other  had  probably  —  "I 
beg  your  pardon.''  " 

Martha  was  smiling  at  him,  a  little  wistfully.  "  I 
said,  if  you  happen  to  come  to  Dayton,  you  must  be 
sure  to  look  us  up."  Sitting,  so  to  speak,  directly  im- 
der  the  guns,  it  was  the  most  cordial  invitation  she 
could  venture. 

Egan  glanced  at  Mary;  Mary  was  outwardly  very 
tolerant. 

"  I'll  scratch  your  eyes  out,  Martie,"  she  said  hu- 


296  EGAN 

morously.  "  Didn't  you  know  I'm  his  chaperon  ?  I 
am,  too;  aren't  I,  Bronson?  " 

Underneath  the  humour,  however,  there  was  a  tone 
which  chilled  Egan. 

"  I'm  afraid  there's  not  much  chance  of  my  getting 
over ;  but  if  I  ever  should  — " 

"  Don't  forget  us,  please."  As  though  he  could ! 
For  a  single  hour  of  a  single  day ! 

"  Good-bye,  then.  Miss  Henderson." 

His  clasp  was  meant  to  be  as  formal  as  the  time 
and  place  demanded,  but  presently  he  awoke  to  dis- 
cover that  Martha  was  growing  roseate. 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  Bronson,"  said  Mary  Kent, 
"  don't  you  know  you  shouldn't  hold  hands  in  public  ? 
I'm  amazed  at  you !  Right  in  front  of  your  chaperon, 
too !  " 

There  had  been  an  instant  when  his  heart  had  glowed 
with  new  warmth,  but  the  chiU  which  Mary  gave  it 
endured  surprisingly. 


XXIV 

AT  the  office,  Hoyt  was  fuming  in  wait  for  him. 
"  Oh,  there  you  are ! "  he  said.  "  I  was 
j  ust  going  to  send  out  a  searching  party !  I 
thought  you'd  mislaid  yourself  for  good.  Directors' 
meeting  at  the  hotel  at  half  past  three,  and  they  want 
you." 

"Me?     What  for?" 

"  Third  degree,  I  guess.  They  want  you  to  outline 
your  whole  idea." 

"  My  whole  idea  ?     My  — " 

"  Just  so.     Put  up  a  workable  project." 

Egan  was  alarmed.  "  Why,  Mr.  Hoyt,  they've  got 
the  cart  before  the  horse !  " 

"  I  know  it."  The  treasurer  hesitated.  "  Oh,  thun- 
der !  There's  no  sense  in  letting  you  go  it  blind.  We'll 
settle  down  to  an  even  keel  in  time,  I  suppose,  but  just 
now  there's  a  big  wrangle  over  policies.  PoUcies  and 
politics.     You're  a  Henderson  man,  and — " 

"lam,  ami?" 

Hoyt  stared.  "Well,  aren't  you?  I'll  grant  it 
would  have  looked  more  logical  if  you  were  Kent's, 
but  — " 

"  Where  in  the  devil  does  Kent  fit  into  this  ?  " 

Hoyt's  stare  was  prolonged.  "Fit?  My  lord! 
He's  one  of  the  chief  stockholders.  He  isn't  a  director, 
himself,  but  he's  got  a  majority  on  the  board,  or  close 
to  it.     He's  playing  inside  stuff.     As  a  matter  of  fact, 

297 


298  EGAN 

I  guess  I'm  the  only  independent  there  is.  Richards 
and  Luke  are  the  principal  henchmen  for  Kent  — 
they're  the  ones  that'll  bother  you." 

Egan  grimaced.  "  So  I'm  going  under  fire  because 
I'm  a  Henderson  man,  am  I?  " 

"That's  about  the  size  of  it.  They'll  do  their 
damnedest  to  pick  flaws  in  every  idea  you've  got.  That 
is,  the  Kent  crowd  will.  It's  not  so  much  to  discredit 
you  —  it's  to  show  Henderson  that  he's  got  to  let  Luke 
and  Richards  pick  their  own  men." 

"  Well  — " 

Hoyt  reflected,  and  decided  to  hold  back  part  of  his 
information,  and  to  disguise  the  rest. 

"  It's  nothing  to  me,  one  way  or  the  other.  I  just 
didn't  want  you  to  get  caught  unawares.  But  I'm  sort 
of  sympathetic  with  Henderson  on  this,  because  it  seems 
to  me  he's  got  the  best  judgment.  I  think  it'll  help  the 
Company,  and  sort  of  square  up  things,  and  let  Hender- 
son keep  the  whip-hand  if  you  make  a  good  showing. 
If  you  don't,  something's  likely  to  blow.     That's  all." 

"  But  what  —  am  I  supposed  —  to  say  ?  " 

"  They'll  ask  you  questions,"  said  Hoyt.  "  Don't 
let  'em  horse  you.  That's  all.  Remember  there  isn't 
a  man  jack  who  knows  the  air  part  of  it.  Thej^'re  all 
executives.  It's  a  wonderful  chance  to  say  exactly 
what  you  think.  I'd  go  to  it."  He  felt  that  it  was 
inadvisable  to  tell  Egan  that  the  directors'  meeting 
really  didn't  care  two  straws  for  Egan's  opinions,  but 
was  convening  more  as  a  caucus  to  see  which  leader  the 
big  interests  would  support.  It  was  a  matter  of  Hen- 
derson against  the  field. 


EGAN  299 

When  Hoyt  and  Egan  entered  the  banquet-room  on 
the  top  floor  of  the  Plainfield  House,  going  up  on  tip- 
toe as  they  crossed  the  threshold,  the  directors'  meet- 
ing was  already  in  full  swing.  The  question  under 
lively  debate  was  so  much  a  matter  of  finance,  and 
so  little  within  Egan's  comprehension,  that  he  had  am- 
ple time,  before  any  attention  was  shifted  to  himself, 
to  take  a  mental  photograph  of  the  various  personali- 
ties he  had  to  deal  with.  At  the  first  glance,  it  was 
obvious  that  friction  had  developed  early ;  but  wonder 
as  he  would,  Egan  couldn't  separate  the  two  factions. 
He  simply  couldn't  tell  them  apart ;  because  he  should 
naturally  have  imagined  that  all  the  local  dignitaries 
would  support  Kent. 

As  he  listened,  restively,  he  also  wondered  why  Kent 
had  chosen  to  remain  in  the  background.  Kent  wasn't 
a  director,  and  he  wasn't  present,  but  his  influence  was 
there  as  definitely  as  though  Kent  were  sitting  at  the 
table.  Egan  felt  it  even  although,  from  moment  to 
moment,  he  couldn't  determine  accurately  who  were  the 
Kent  spokesmen.  The  atmosphere  was  there.  And 
Kent  had  sponsored  this  company  —  Kent,  who  had 
been  Egan's  first  friend  to  pronounce  air  transporta- 
tion an  impracticability.  It  was  an  indigestible  and 
a  mystifying  discovery.  He  couldn't  understand  what 
motives  could  have  impelled  Kent  to  such  doings  in 
darkness.  It  was  as  though  Egan,  standing  appar- 
ently on  firm  ground,  had  slipped,  and  found  no  sup- 
port. 

The  argument  died  out  in  a  final  sputter  of  protest, 
and  a  hasty  vote,  and  Henderson,  who  hadn't  previ- 


300  EGAN 

ously  taken  the  slightest  notice  of  Egan,  suddenly 
looked  up  and  beckoned  to  him.  Egan,  circling  the 
big  table,  was  increasingly  conscious  of  an  unexpected 
attitude  on  the  part  of  Henderson,  an  utterly  passion- 
less attitude  not  directed  towards  Egan  alone,  but  to- 
wards the  group  in  general.  The  stout  man  was  neither 
jovial  nor  cynical;  he  was  strictly  business  to  the  finger 
tips. 

"  Here's  Mr.  Egan,"  he  said,  and  added,  parenthet- 
ically, "  Sit  down,  Mr.  Egan."  He  surveyed  the  Board 
coolly.  "  Any  questions  you  have  to  ask  Mr.  Egan  — " 
He  gestured  his  unconcern,  and,  averting  himself,  be- 
gan to  pare  the  end  from  a  long  cigar.  Egan,  the  tar- 
get of  a  dozen  pairs  of  eyes,  was  wrapped  in  uncer- 
tainty. He  was,  prima  facie,  a  Henderson  man ;  Hen- 
derson had  got  him  his  place,  and  Hoyt  had  said  that 
he  was  a  Henderson  man ;  and  yet  — 

For  a  moment  or  two,  the  room  was  silent.  Eyes  had 
left  off  staring  at  Egan,  pencils  were  tracing  aimless 
designs  on  blocks  of  paper.  King  and  Garverick  were 
exchanging  views  in  mumbled  undertones.  The  room 
was  very  still.  Egan  was  unwillingly  assuming  the 
status  of  a  defendant. 

"  Well?  "  said  Henderson.  He  had  pared  the  cigar 
to  his  liking,  and  lit  it  slowly,  as  though  he  enjoyed  the 
mechanics  of  the  act.     His  tone  was  slightly  acid. 

Luke,  the  president  of  the  company,  a  man  with  a 
worried  manner  and  the  steadiest  sort  of  grey  eyes, 
took  a  printed  slip  from  his  pocket-book,  and  adjusted 
his  glasses.  Without  even  looking  at  Egan,  he  began, 
with  a  school  teacher's  querulous  inflection : 

"  If  you  were  in  absolute  power  over  the  affairs  of 


EGAN  301 

this  company,  Mr.  Egan,  and  had  unlimited  funds  — 
what  type  of  airplanes  would  you  buy?  Knowing 
what  we  purpose  to  do,  and  what  we've  already  con- 
tracted for  —  what  type  would  you  buy  ?  And  how 
many?     And  why?  " 

Egan  looked  at  Hoyt,  and  got  no  satisfaction.  He 
looked  at  Henderson,  who  was  in  rapt  contemplation 
of  an  irregular  ash.  He  got  no  information  there. 
He  swept  the  table  for  a  clue.  The  faces  of  the  di- 
rectors, without  exception,  were  placidly  vacant  of  as- 
sistance. Some  of  the  men  were  intent,  some  were 
elaborately  indifferent,  one  or  two  were  smiling.  Egan 
cleared  his  throat.     The  room  was  very  quiet. 

It  struck  him  forcibly  that  this  little  knot  of  men, 
seemingly  so  callous  to  their  power,  controlled  not  only 
the  million  dollar  Air  Traffic  Company,  but  also,  in 
their  various  other  capacities,  two-thirds  of  the  indus- 
trial machinery  of  Plainfield.  In  mass,  they  repre- 
sented probably  twenty  million  dollars'  worth  of  prop- 
erty and  good-will:  and  they  were  silent,  waiting  for 
what  he  had  to  say.  He  had  time,  even  then,  for  a 
fleeting  estimate  of  what  would  have  happened  to  him 
if  he  had  tried  to  establish  his  own  little  company 
in  this  same  field.  Seldom  had  he  felt  so  young,  so 
insignificant.  To  think  of  this  directorate  as  against 
his  own  trio  —  Adams,  Perkins  and  himself ! 

"  I  wouldn't  buy  any  more  airplanes,"  he  said.  His 
OTvn  voice  was  very  low. 

The  president  methodically  folded  his  slip  of  paper 
and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  He  removed  his  glasses,  and 
snapped  them  prisoner  in  a  gold  case.  Egan,  without 
turning  his  head,  felt  that  Henderson  had  turned  his 


302  EGAN 

slowly,  and  was  studying  Egan  between  puffs  of  his 
cigar.  Hoyt  had  suddenly  taken  to  tapping  the  arm 
of  his  chair  with  one  forefinger,  and  Garverick  was 
making  faint  curious  sounds  with  his  lips.  Otherwise, 
the  quiet  was  still  undisturbed. 

"  What  would  you  buy  ?  "  Mr.  Luke  seemed  hiding 
behind  his  eyelashes. 

"  Small  diribles,"  said  Egan. 

There  was  a  little  rustle  and  stir  among  the  Board. 
Men  glanced  at  each  other.  One  laughed  outright. 
Richards  leaned  forward  and  rested  his  elbows  on  the 
table.  "  And  yet  you  planned  to  start  a  company  of 
your  own  with  airplanes,  didn't  you  ?  " 

Egan's  eyes  held  the  level  until  Richards  looked 
away. 

"  My  views  haven't  changed,  Mr.  Richards.  I've 
only  answered  the  question." 

"  Explain  yourself,"  said  Luke,  shortly.  "  It's 
rather  late  in  the  day  —  but  go  ahead.  Let's  hear 
what  you've  got  to  say.  Give  us  your  reasons."  He, 
too,  brought  out  a  cigar,  and  clipped  it,  with  nervous 
haste. 

"  The  airplane  is  made  for  high  speed  for  short  dis- 
tances, Mr.  Luke.  The  dirigible  is  a  weight  carrier. 
And  we're  more  interested  in  freight  than  passengers. 
That's  the  main  reason." 

"  And  takes  all  night  to  go  fifty  miles  ?  " 

**  Seventy-five  miles  an  hour,  Mr.  Luke." 

Egan  had  an  impression  that  Henderson  was  either 
very  much  amused,  or  very  much  annoyed,  but  he  didn't 
attempt  to  verify  the  intuition  by  visual  evidence.  He 
was  absorbed  by  the  sight  of  Boyd,  owner  of  the  Times, 


EGAN  303 

and  King,  owner  of  the  Herald,  sworn  enemies  for  a 
generation,  whispering  to  each  other  in  the  greatest 
good-humour.  They  had  all  the  symptoms  of  men  who 
were  partners  in  an  excellent  joke.  Johansen,  a  mild- 
eyed  dreamer  who  emerged  from  dreams  just  long 
enough  to  be  a  remarkable  chemist,  was  gazing  at  the 
ceiling;  his  expression  was  that  of  a  man  who  is  being 
comfortably  shaved.  Hoyt  was  drawing  pictures  on 
his  tablet  of  paper,  and  admiring  them  with  his  head  on 
one  side. 

The  president  took  to  jiggling  his  watch-charm. 

"  Did  you  ever  fly  one.''  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Ever  travel  in  one  ?  " 

"  No,  sir."  Egan  began  to  appreciate  the  weakness 
of  his  position. 

"  Ever  seen  one  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  good  many." 

"  Where  do  you  get  your  facts  about  speed.?  " 

"  From  the  British  Air  Ministry,  and  Glenn  Curtiss. 
Curtiss  designed  the  N  C  seaplanes  that  made  the  trans- 
atlantic flight."  Egan  observed  that  the  president  was 
uneasy  about  something. 

Garverick  had  straightened  up.  t*  If  they're  so  good 
as  all  that, —  as  good  as  you're  trying  to  say  they  are 
—  why  didn't  we  use  'em .''  Why  didn't  the  Government 
use  'em  in  the  war.?     That's  what  I  want  to  know." 

"  The  Navy  did  use  them.  This  country  was  slow 
in  getting  into  production." 

Johansen,  blond,  repressed,  and  with  his  'round-the- 
comer  manner,  cast  in  an  observation :  "  I  always  un- 
derstood that  Germany's  program  of  dirigibles  failed." 


304  EGAN 

Egan's  assent  was  vigorous.  He  was  gaining  confi- 
dence. 

"  That  was  in  combat.  It  failed  because  England 
had  a  good  defence.  That  doesn't  affect  their  value 
commercially.  Nobody's  going  to  shoot  at  freighters 
in  peace-time.  And  England  wouldn't  have  had  a 
chance  to  spoil  that  program  unless  Germany'd  been 
able  to  get  their  dirigibles  to  England  pretty  regu- 
larly. Isn't  that  logical?  In  other  words,  the  pro- 
gram failed  not  because  Germany  couldn't  get  the 
dirigibles  where  they  wanted  to,  but  because  England 
could  destroy  'em  after  they  got  there.  You've  heard 
only  one  side  of  it,  at  that.  Perhaps  you  didn't  know 
that  England  actually  owned  more  dirigibles  than  Ger- 
many does.  And  they  wouldn't  have  gone  into  that 
game  unless  they  knew  what  there  was  in  it,  would 
they.?" 

The  president  moved  slightly.  *'  What  other  rea- 
sons have  you  ?     Any  ?  " 

Egan  was  quite  at  his  ease.  His  technical  su- 
periority was  encouraging. 

"  Well,  for  one  thing  —  speed  in  an  airplane  means 
safety.  You  have  to  maintain  pretty  high  speed  to 
stay  in  the  air  at  aU.  When  you  lose  speed,  you're 
likely  to  have  difficulties.  In  a  dirigible,  it  doesn't 
make  so  much  difference.  Hardly  any.  A  dirigible 
doesn't  always  have  to  come  down  if  it  has  engine  trou- 
ble. You  can  sometimes  repair  the  engine  in  the  air, 
if  you  want  to.  That's  a  tremendous  advantage,  both 
in  time,  and  in  safety.  So  you  can  travel  over  rough 
country  where  it  wouldn't  be  safe  to  fly  an  airplane. 
That's  because  the  question  of  landing  places  isn't  im- 


EGAN  305 

portant.  Or,  rather,  it's  important  but  it  isn't  im- 
perative, because  you  don't  just  have  to  land  as  soon  as 
something  goes  wrong.  It's  safer  for  passengers,  and 
a  lot  more  comfortable.  Then  in  an  airplane  you've 
got  to  be  careful  to  fly  level,  and  in  a  fog  it's  danger- 
ous ;  a  dirigible  stays  level  all  the  time,  and  you  can 
just  keep  going.  You  can  stand  up  and  walk  around 
in  a  rigid  dirigible.     You  can  — " 

"  Doesn't  the  gas  —  or  rather,  isn't  it  inflammable  ?  " 
Richards  had  asked  the  question,  and  Johansen  was 
smiling. 

"  Yes,  but  it's  safer  than  an  airplane  at  that.  Eng- 
land lost  only  one  dirigible  in  two  and  a  half  mil- 
lion miles  of  flying,  that  way." 

"  If  you  use  helium  gas,  it  isn't  inflammable,"  said 
Johansen.     "Not  inflammable  —  just  expensive." 

"  To  fly  seventy-five  miles  an  hour,  how  much  weight 
could  they  carry  ?  " 

"  Oh,  thirty  or  thirty-five  tons." 

The  Board,  to  a  man,  sat  up.  Questions  shot  at 
Egan  from  all  sides.  Hoyt,  tapping  the  arm  of  his 
chair,  wore  a  huge  grin. 

"  Suppose  you  had  to  leave  one  outdoors  in  bad 
weather?  " 

"  They  used  to  do  it  regularly.  Month  after  month. 
They  don't  — " 

"  In  a  high  wind?  " 

"  You  moor  them  to  big  masts.     It's  — " 

"  Not  use  hangars  ?  " 

"  Only  for  long  repairs.     Save  time." 

"  How  high  do  they  have  to  fly?  " 

"  That's   another  point.     An   airplane,  to  be  safe, 


306  EGAN 

has  got  to  fly  around  3,000  feet  at  the  lowest,  so  as  to 
have  room  to  start  the  engine  with  a  nose  dive  if  it  ever 
cuts  out,  or  to  recover  from  loss  of  control,  or  to  pick 
landing  fields  and  have  room  to  land  in.  A  dirigible 
is  pretty  safe  anywhere  —  even  a  hundred  feet,  except 
in  a  storm  like  — " 

"  How  about  quick  landings  for  fuel  —  or  to  load  or 
unload  ?  " 

Egan  laughed.  "  They  could  carry  almost  fuel 
enough  to  go  'round  the  world.  And  for  stops  —  why, 
use  grapnel.     That's  the  usual  way.     Anchor." 

"  And  at  night  ?     How  do  they  steer  ?  " 

"  Think  of  the  Zeppelins,  Mr.  Luke.  You  can  navi- 
gate by  the  stars  or  by  compass.  Night  flying's  just 
as  easy  as  day  flying." 

"  What's  the  cost  ?  "  This  was  an  explosive  demand 
from  Garverick. 

"  I  don't  know ;  but  I  do  know  that  two  small  dirigi- 
bles flying  around  our  loop,  even  if  they  cost  three  or 
four  hundred  thousand  dollars  apiece,  would  show  more 
profit  than  ten  or  twenty  or  fifty  airplanes.  You  can 
slash  your  rates  all  to  nothing,  too.  And  even  if  you 
did  take  twice  as  much  time  as  an  airplane  would,  you'll 
cut  the  railroad's  time  in  less  than  half,  for  passenger 
traffic  —  and  save,  say  between  here  and  Chicago,  one 
day  on  express,  and  a  week  on  freight."  He  ventured 
now  to  glance  towards  Henderson.  The  Chairman's 
face  was  ironed  smooth  of  any  expression,  but  in  his 
eyes  there  was  a  precious  light.  Egan  looked  at  Hoyt. 
Hoyt  was  intent  on  vacancy,  as  though  vacancy  de- 
lighted him.     The  Board  rustled. 

"  Can  you  tell  us,  Mr.  Egan,  why  —  if  this  is  your 


EGAN  307 

honest  belief  —  you  planned  a  company  of  your  own 
with  — " 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  said  Egan  buoyantly.  "  Air- 
planes are  cheaper.  You  can  get  quicker  deliveries. 
They're  a  tiny  bit  more  spectacular,  because  the  public 
over  here  isn't  fed  up  on  them  yet.  I  never  considered 
them  myself  because  I  knew  I  couldn't  finance  one." 

"  But  your  professional  opinion  is  that  — " 

"  Is  that  you  ought  at  least  — " 

Henderson  interrupted  him  lazily.  **  Don't  say 
*  you  ' —  say  '  we.'  " 

Egan  nodded,  and  took  the  amendment. 

"  We  ought  at  least  to  look  at  the  subject  and  see 
what's  in  it.  It  needs  experimental  work,  and  a  lot  of 
it,  but  that's  what  we're  here  for,  isn't  it  ?  "  He  smiled 
at  the  president,  trying  to  make  the  smile  infectious. 
"  Of  course,  there  are  some  disadvantages.  Landing 
in  a  high  wind,  for  instance.  And  motor  trouble  that 
can't  be  fixed  in  a  hurry,  and  lets  the  ship  drift.  But 
if  you  had  a  multimotored  airship,  with  reserve  engines 
ready.  .  .  .  You  see,  if  any  one  had  asked  me  ...  I 
was  trying  to  raise  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  be- 
cause I  didn't  think  I  could  possibly  raise  more  than 
that,  anjrway.  And  that  meant  starting  with  planes 
—  not  dirigibles.  There  was  another  point,  too  .  .  . 
I  could  fly  myself,  and  keep  expenses  down." 

A  little  flare  of  laughter  burnt  itself  out. 

Henderson  crossed  his  legs  comfortably.  **  I  hope 
you  gentlemen  are  slowly  beginning  to  understand  why 
I  hired  this  boy.  If  you'd  ever  taken  the  trouble,  any 
of  you  — "  He  got  more  emphasis  by  stopping  here 
than  if  he  had  finished  the  sentence. 


808  EGAN 

Johansen,  fiddling  with  his  heavy  blond  moustache, 
said  a  word  for  progress.  "  Mr.  Egan  may  be  right. 
He  may  be  wrong.  Certainly  the  reason  why  the 
United  States  is  so  far  behind  in  these  matters  is  be- 
cause we're  not  intensive  students.  But  weWe  here  to 
plan  for  the  future." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Hoyt,  "  there's  nothing  to  prevent 
our  going  ahead  with  the  airplane  contracts,  and  get- 
ting some  sort  of  service  under  way  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  then  — " 

"  Investigate?  " 

"  Certainly.  Do  the  pioneering,  if  necessary.  Have 
all  kinds  of  service.  Airplanes  for  fast,  daily  service, 
and  dirigibles  for  heavier  stuff,  less  often.  Express 
and  freight.     Just  carry  out  the  original  idea  plus." 

Directors  began  to  talk  to  each  other  in  undertones. 
Egan,  isolated,  caught  snatches  of  dialogue. 

"  My  God,  man,  on  a  tonnage  basis !  Suppose  he's 
right,  why — " 

"  Say  even  thirty  tons.  Against  our  estimate  of  a 
ton  and  a  half !  " 

"  The  cost's  what  bothers  jne.** 

"  We  certainly  ought  to  have  looked  into  it,  any- 
how." 

"  You  could  carry  freight  for  a  quarter  cent  per 
pound  per  mile.  A  hundred  pounds  to  Chicago  —  a 
hundred  times  a  quarter  cent  times  four  hundred  — " 

"  That's  about  eight  dollars.  Delivered  —  with 
stops  —  in  a  day." 

"  Call  it  a  hundred  and  fifty  a  ton.  Forty-five  hun- 
dred — " 

"  Forty-five  hundred  for  one  trip!  " 


EGAN  309 

"  Different  equipment  —  everything." 
"  You  can't  control  the  wind,  though?  '* 
"  If  you  only  went  out  filled  to  a  third  capacity  — " 
"  Why  should  we  experiment  ?     Let  the  Government 
do  it." 

"  Well,  what  do  the  damned  things  cost  ?  " 
"  I  know,  but  *o7n^body's  got  to  do  the  experiment- 
ing.    I'm  strong  for  it." 

"  I  suppose  we'd  need  two  —  one  on  schedule,  and 
one  reserve  — " 

"  It  means  gas  plants.     I'm  afraid  of  it." 
"  But  the  load !     Think  of  the  bulk  business  !     It's 
a  monopoly ! " 

"  Well  —  if  it  could  be  made  to  work,  it's  the  an- 
swer! " 

Henderson  rapped  on  the  table.  "  Gentlemen  — 
please.  Some  one  make  a  motion  to  appoint  a  commit- 
tee to  report  on  this  at  the  next  meeting.''  "  The  con- 
versation settled  down  to  a  desultory  whispering. 

Richards  addressed  the  Chair  without  looking  at  it. 
"  Move  the  Chair  appoint  a  committee  of  three  — 
three  directors  —  to  investigate  and  report  next  meet- 

ing." 

"  Second  the  motion.*' 

"Moved  and  seconded  —  any  objection.?  None? 
Quite  so."  Henderson  sat  up.  "  Committee  will  be 
appointed  presently.  Next  business,  election  of  two 
directors.  .  .  .  That's  all,  Mr.  Egan,  thank  you.  .  .  . 
According  to  constitution,  the  stockholders  having 
failed  to  elect  a  full  Board,  the  directors  are  authorized 
to  fill  the  vacancies.  Directors  must  be  stockholders. 
Any  nominations  ?  .  .  .  That's  all,  Mr.  Egan.     Thank 


310  EGAN 

you  very  much."  Egan  rose,  and  went  out  to  the  little 
ante-room,  where  he  had  left  his  hat.  He  didn't  know 
whether  he  had  succeeded  or  failed,  but  he  had  a  good 
intuition  that  he  had  done  more  than  Hoyt  had  ex- 
pected of  him. 

"  I  nominate  G.  W.  Kent." 

"Second!" 

"Second!" 

"Here!  Henderson!  Mr.  Egan.  .  .  .  Shh!  He's 
getting  his  hat.     He's  — " 

"  I  nominate  Edward  W.  Macklin." 

"Second!" 

"  Shut  up !     Wait  'til  Egan's  out  of  here !  " 

Egan  closed  the  door  with  a  bang,  but  the  voices  of 
the  Board  pursued  him  through  the  thin  partitions. 

Hoyt's  voice.     "  I  nominate  Bronson  Egan." 

"I  object  to  that!" 

"  Not  a  stockholder !  " 

"  Second  the  nomination." 

*'  Second  .  .  .  second ! " 

Egan,  waiting  for  the  elevator,  was  stunned. 

*'  I  tell  you  he's  not  a  stockholder !     You  — " 

Henderson's  voice,  very  clear.  "  The  Secretary  will 
inform  the  Board  whether  or  not  Mr.  Egan  is  a  stock- 
holder in  this  company  —  and  if  so,  when  he  acquired 
his  stock." 

Boyd's  voice,  drawling  —  "  Bronson  Egan  —  one 
share  —  certificate  Number  46A  —  transferred  by 
Martin  Henderson.     December  twentieth." 

December  twentieth  was  today.  The  elevator  boy 
wondered  why  Egan  stumbled. 


EGAN  311 

The  final  edition  of  the  Herald  announced  that  G. 
Willoughby  Kent  and  Bronson  Egan  had  been  elected 
to  the  Board  of  Directors  of  the  Air  Traffic  Company, 
and  that  Richards,  Hoyt  and  Egan  were  a  committee 
to  investigate  and  report  upon  the  feasibility  of  dirig- 
ibles. To  Kent,  it  meant  a  great  deal.  To  Egan,  it 
brought  complete  bewilderment  and  the  fresh  realiza- 
tion that  he  should  have  to  work  early  and  late  to  jus- 
tify his  position  and  his  salary.  To  Macklin,  the  de- 
feated candidate,  it  meant  everything.  And  this  re- 
gardless of  whether  the  Company  made  a  huge  success 
or  a  colossal  failure.     That  was  immaterial. 

In  the  morning,  Hoyt  paused  for  an  instant  at 
Egan's  desk. 

"  You  may  not  know  it,"  he  said  in  an  undertone, 
**  but  you  broke  up  the  whole  show  yesterday.  ...  It 
took  'em  right  ofF  their  feet.  It  was  good  work,  too. 
Know  who  you  beat  for  the  director's  job.?  " 

"  I  have  an  idea,"  said  Egan,  cautiously. 

Hoyt  bent  lower.  "  It's  an  omen.  The  faction  that 
controls  the  Board  is  going  to  control  Plainfield.  It's 
practically  a  primary.  It's  the  only  meeting  where 
there's  complete  representation  of  all  sides.  Keep  it 
under  your  hat.  I  think  it  was  a  straw  vote  on  Mack- 
lin." 

In  the  meantime,  having  had  no  telephone  message 
from  Kent,  Egan  let  him  alone. 


XXV 

ON  Christmas  morning,  Egan  went  for  a  long 
walk  over  the  hills  with  Little  Johnny  Jones, 
and,  for  the  first  time  in  months,  enjoyed  a 
thoroughly  informal  conversation. 

"  Your  friend  Eddie,"  observed  Jones  at  one  junc- 
ture, "  seems  to  be  losing  a  little  ground,  doesn't  he?  " 

"  I  thought  he  was  your  friend,"  retorted  Egan. 

Jones  had  smiled  feebly.  "  So  did  I.  But  he's  been 
making  too  many  mistakes  lately  to  suit  me." 

"  You're  not  just  a  fair-weather  friend,  Johnny,  I 
know.  If  you  had  been,  you  wouldn't  have  been  willing 
to  go  in  with  me  on  that  fool  insurance  scheme  I  tried 
to  crowd  down  your  throat." 

Jones  had  considered  the  point  judgmatically. 

"  No-o,  I  don't  think  so.  I'd  have  played  with  you 
on  that  because  you  sure  did  need  somebody  to  lean  on. 
And  after  it  busted,  I  could  have  got  my  old  job  back. 
But  I've  got  my  limits.  I  guess  other  people  have, 
too.  I  hear  Eddie's  been  having  rows  with  his  own 
crowd.  There's  even  some  talk  that  he  won't  be  nom- 
inated. It's  a  sure  thing  he's  got  a  fight  on  his  hands, 
anyway." 

Egan  lifted  his  eyebrows.  "  Who's  back  of  him, 
anyway?     I  mean,  in  politics.     Just  Kent?  " 

Jones  looked  astonished. 

**  Oh,  the  whole  manufacturing  crowd  —  Kent  and 

Luke  and  Richards,  and  that  outfit.     They  got  him  his 

job  as  city  counsel.     He  was  supposed  to  be  a  sort  of 

312 


EGAN  313 

representative  of  all  the  big  Plainfield  business.  Eddie 
was  quite  a  boy  for  a  couple  of  years.  But  I  under- 
stand he  doesn't  like  to  stay  put.  He  seems  to  think 
he's  got  so  strong  he  can  win  out  without  any  backers 
at  all.     At  least,  they  say  he's  beginning  to  buck  Kent." 

"  Hm."  Egan  was  thinking  of  the  ghastly  humor- 
ous weapon  in  Adams'  hands. 

"  If  you  want  to  know  it,  there's  a  lot  of  talk  about 
your  going  in  with  that  crowd  again,  too,"  said  Jones. 

"What  kind  of  talk?" 

"  Oh,  nothing  much  —  only  it  helps  along  the  im- 
pression that  Ed's  on  his  last  legs,  and  Kent's  losing 
some  of  his  grip,  too.  Everybody  knows  how  you  two 
get  along  together.  Nobody'd  put  you  in  the  same 
room  and  expect  anything  but  a  scrap.  So  it  was  one 
or  the  other.  The  talk  was  that  if  Eddie  lost  the  nom- 
ination, or  if  he  got  it  and  then  got  licked,  he  was  go- 
ing to  be  the  attorney  for  Air  Traffic.  It'll  be  the 
biggest  account  in  Plainfield  —  the  whole  legal  side  of 
the  thing's  so  new.  A  mighty  fat  job.  And  it  was 
going  to  be  a  semi-political  plum  for  Kent.  But  when 
Henderson  took  you  on,  some  of  these  wise  old  birds 
said  he  was  sort  of  putting  it  straight  up  to  Kent.  It 
was  to  feel  him  out.  If  he'd  been  strong  enough  with 
his  crowd  and  the  independents  combined  to  get  you  out, 
it  would  have  shown  that  his  crowd  is  still  backing  him. 
They  say  that  the  fact  you're  in  there  as  a  Hen- 
derson man  shows  that  the  old  crowd  hasn't  the  old 
pep.  Because  they  had  to  choose  between  you  and 
Eddie." 

Egan  snorted.  "  All  this  bunk  about  using  me  for  a 
kind  of  a  tennis  ball  to  see  which  way  the  wind  t)lows  — " 


3U  EGAN 

"  Well,  I'm  not  trying  to  explain  anything  —  I'm 
only  repeating  what  I  heard.  Where  are  you  having 
dinner  —  with  the  Kents  ?  " 

"  Me  ?  "  said  Egan,  surprisedly.  "  Why,  no.  I'm 
having  it  at  the  house.  I've  got  too  much  work  to  do 
this  afternoon  to  go  out  anywhere." 

For  decades,  the  world  of  commerce  has  laughed  at 
what  it  terms  "  Army  red  tape."  Men  who  call  them- 
selves, and  by  others  are  also  called,  "  business  men," 
speak  of  Army  procedure  as  the  apotheosis  of  the  slow 
molasses  train  of  thought  and  action ;  and  even  those 
who  have  been  a  part  of  the  Army  often  resent  the  cum- 
bersome methods  so  characteristic  of  it  —  methods 
which,  to  a  nervously-constituted  critic,  spontaneously 
suggest  fanaticism. 

It  is  of  course  true  that  the  Army  could  learn  many 
a  valuable  lesson  from  Business.  It  is,  however,  no  less 
true  that  Business  could  learn  twice  as  much  from  the 
Army.  Egan,  having  only  the  one  kind  of  experience 
to  guide  him,  and  finding  himself  in  unquestioned  com- 
mand of  his  own  department,  put  into  effect  certain 
systems,  certain  regulations,  certain  ways  of  doing 
things,  which  attracted  prompt  notice. 

In  the  absence  of  any  actual  flying  operations  to  di- 
rect, his  present  work,  save  for  his  duties  on  the  com- 
mittee to  investigate  the  dirigible  situation,  was  entirely 
in  the  realm  of  planning.  He  therefore  began  at  the 
beginning,  and  established  the  four-basket  system  of 
correspondence.  He  introduced  the  custom  of  having 
his  own  named  typed  at  the  end  of  his  letters,  in  order 
that  even  if  his  signature  were  misread,  the  reader  would 


EGAN  815 

be  corrected  instantly.  With  the  very  first  letter  he 
dictated,  he  ordered  three  carbons  —  one  to  forward 
with  the  letter  itself,  two  to  file. 

Hoyt,  who  was  more  than  ever  interested  in  Egan 
since  the  youngest  executive  of  the  staffs  had  played  so 
perfectly  into  Henderson's  hands,  came  to  Egan  with  a 
grin.  "  More  of  your  red  tape,  eh?  "  he  said.  "  Of 
course,  this  is  your  office  to  run  as  you  like,  and  my 
hat's  off  to  you  and  Adams  most  of  the  time  as  it  is, 
but  why  send  a  carbon  with  a  letter?  Think  the  fel- 
low who  gets  it  reads  one  sheet  with  each  eye?  " 

Egan  explained.  "  I'm  having  directions  printed  on 
my  stationery,  so  everybody'll  understand.  Why,  sup- 
pose a  couple  of  months  from  now  the  man  who  gets  this 
letter  wants  to  write  me  about  it.  In  business,  he'd 
say  '  Referring  to  your  letter  of  October  5th,'  and  then 
go  on,  and  I  might  be  absolutely  in  the  dark,  and  be- 
fore I'd  even  know  what  he  was  driving  at,  I  might  have 
to  dig  through  the  files.  Or  he  might  refer  to  the 
wrong  date,  or  no  date  at  all.  But  I  want  him  to  come 
back,  if  he  ever  does,  like  this  — '  Referring  to  your 
letter  of  October  5th,  copy  attached '  —  and  I'll  have 
the  whole  story  right  there.  Just  the  same  reason  that 
I  keep  two  carbons  instead  of  one.  If  I  ever  want  to 
take  this  up  again  myself  with  the  other  fellow,  I'll 
begin,  '  Referring  to  our  letter  of  October  5th,  copy 
attached,'  and  so  on.  Saves  hunting  through  files,  and 
overloading  your  memory,  and  guesswork,  and  all  sorts 
of  things." 

"  Hm  !  "  said  Hoyt.  "  You  won't  have  room  in  here 
for  your  files  alone." 

**  I  don't  intend  to  have  any  files  here  at  all.     It's 


316  EGAN 

bad  business.  All  correspondence  ought  to  be  in  one 
place.  I've  sjioken  to  Luke  —  he  agrees  with  me. 
Nothing  can  get  into  the  files  without  somebody's  ini- 
tials as  authority  for  filing,  and  after  that,  nobody  can 
get  it  out  without  an  order  slip.  The  chief  file  clerk 
charges  whoever  takes  anything  out,  and  follows  it  up 
in  forty-eight  hours  to  see  that  it  gets  back." 

*'  Suppose  somebody  writes  us  a  letter,  and  later  on, 
we  want  to  refer  it  to  somebody  else  — " 

"  You  don't.  You  send  a  copy.  The  rule  is  never 
to  let  anything  with  ink  on  it  get  out  of  the  office." 

Hoyt  laughed  indulgently  "  You'll  get  the  place 
top-heavy  with  formality.  Our  job's  to  make  money 
for  the  house." 

Egan  was  perfectly  serious.  "  I've  told  you  already 
this  is  the  only  way  I  know  how  to  do  things.  I  wish 
you  would  criticize.  .  .  .  I'll  show  you  some  of  my  de- 
signs for  card  records  —  Here's  an  efficiency  record, 
borrowed  from  the  rating-card  of  the  Committee  on 
Classification  of  Personnel  in  the  Army.  It  takes  five 
minutes  to  rate  a  man,  and  if  you  do.it  with  ordinary 
intelligence,  it'll  tell  you  things  you  never  even  sus- 
pected ;  .  .  .  it'll  show  you  who's  falling  back,  and  who 
ought  to  be  promoted,  and  by  gosh !  it  works.  .  .  , 
Here's  a  card  to  show  every  pilot's  performance,  good 
or  bad  —  what  conditions  he  flew  under,  and  everything. 
.  .  .  Here's  the  trip  card.  Data  of  loading.  Data  of 
maintenance.  Data  of  trip  itself.  So  if  the  chief  me- 
chanic here  O.  K.'s  a  ship  bound  for  Chicago,  and  it 
has  to  make  a  forced  landing  because  of  fouled  plugs, 
the  pilot  isn't  charged  with  the  delay.  It  shows  the 
fuel,  and  what  grade,  and  who  inspected  it  —  the  whole 


EGAN  317 

works.  If  any  single  thing  goes  wrong,  you  know  ex- 
actly where  to  pin  the  blame,  and  you  know  where  to 
give  praise,  too.  .  .  .  Here's  the  ship  card,  to  show  ex- 
actly what  it  costs  us  to  operate.  .  .  .  Here's  the  — " 

"  But  a  lot  of  that  is  nothing  but  duplicating  records ! 
Some  of  it's  the  Secretary's  job.  Some  of  it's  Luke's. 
Some  of  it's  mine." 

"  I  don't  care  whether  it's  duplicating  or  not.  I  need 
it.  That's  the  whole  answer.  The  Treasurer  may  not 
keep  his  books  so  as  to  tell  me  whether  one  ship  or  an- 
other will  pay  better  to  start  on  a  special  trip  to  Cin- 
cinnati, under  certain  weather  conditions,  with  a  cer- 
tain load,  with  four  different  pilots  to  choose  from.  I 
don't  see  why  you  should  keep  that  stuff,  and  I  — " 

"  So  you'll  multiply  your  clerical  help  — " 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so,  and  I  won't  spend  ten  cents 
more  per  person  than  you  do  for  yours,  and  I  won't 
have  any  system  in  here  that  doesn't  pay  for  itself, 
directly  or  indirectly.  What's  bothering  you  is  that 
you  don't  check  up  the  indirect  methods.  There  won't 
be  any  loafing  in  here,  if  I  can  help  it.  The  big  point 
is  to  hire  just  the  right  grade  of  intelligence.  I  need 
about  twelve  dollars  a  week's  worth  for  this  sort  of 
thing.  Say,  sixty  dollars  a  week  for  the  records  alone. 
I'll  save  a  month  of  that  on  the  first  special  trip  we 
ever  make,  and  a  year  of  it  after  we've  operated  a  month 
on  schedule." 

Hoyt  threw  up  his  hands. 

"  Go  to  it.  Give  it  a  fair  trial.  I'd  like  to  see  how 
it  works.  But  —  what's  this.?  Going  into  the  rubber- 
stamp  business  ?  " 

"That's   the  Alibi   Section,"   said  Egan.     "Time- 


818  EGAN 

istamp  on  all  incoming  correspondence.  Time-stamp, 
on  all  outgoing.  Combined  stamp  and  dater  for  inter- 
ofiBce  work.  Suppose  I  want  to  send  this  letter  over  to 
you  —  it  wasn't  really  intended  for  me,  but  for  you. 
•  Referred  to  Mr.  Hoyt  — 10-5-19  — 11  A.  M:  You'd 
have  hard  work  to  prove  it  stayed  on  my  desk  too  long.'* 

**  You  might  forget  to  send  it  to  me." 

'*  No  —  I  wouldn't  have  to  remember.  I  heave  it  in 
my  *  OUT '  basket.  I've  seen  Luke  about  this,  too. 
We  have  three  or  four  messengers  circulating  from  the 
mail  desk.  Boys.  Every  ten  minutes  by  the  clock  one 
comes  to  my  desk,  leaves  whatever  he  may  have  for  me, 
gathers  up  everything  to  go  out,  and  takes  it  —  all  of 
it  —  to  the  mailing  desk.  The  mail  clerk  licks  all  the 
stamps  —  and  gets  the  outgoing  mail  under  way.  This 
isn't  outgoing  mail.  It's  interoffice  stuff.  In  not  more 
than  ten  minutes,  one  of  those  boys  is  going  to  your 
desk  the  same  way.  That's  what  you  do  —  heave 
things  in  the  '  OUT '  basket  and  go  on  about  your 
work." 

**  More  salaries  for  messengers  !  " 

"And  no  taking  your  stenographer  off  her  job,  or 
running  around  yourself,  or  burying  the  thing  and  for- 
getting it  a  day  or  two.  Messengers?  Eight  dollars 
a  week." 

**  But  if  all  this  is  workable,"  demanded  Hoyt,  "  why 
did  it  ever  take  so  infernally  long  to  get  correspond- 
ence answered  in  Washington  ?     Why  — " 

*'  Sh-h-h ! "  said  Egan.  "  For  results,  give  me  a 
fresh  kid  just  out  of  school,  and  a  blondined  steno  who 
■chews  gum,  if  they  know  they  can  be  fired  if  they  don't 
get  the  work  out." 


EGAN  319 

"  Oh ! " 

Egan  was  suddenly  aware  that  for  several  minutes  he 
had  been  speaking,  to  an  older  and  a  more  experienced 
man,  in  a  tone  of  arbitrary  confidence.  He  blushed, 
and  recalled  his  own  business  record. 

"  Of  course,  you  know  a  lot  better  than  I  do  whether 
this  is  good  stuff  or  not.  If  you  say  so,  I'll  cut  it  all 
out." 

"  We-e-1  —  we'll  see  how  it  pans  out.  Has  Richards 
seen  it-f"  " 

"  Yes." 
'   «  What  does  he  think.?  " 

Their  eyes  met,  and  both  men  smiled  faintly. 

"  Did  you  ever  notice,"  asked  Hoyt  irrelevantly  an- 
swering his  own  ^question,  "  that  you  can't  strike  sparks 
on  mush  ?  " 

In  the  generality  of  his  new  surroundings  Egan  was 
so  happy  that  he  forgot  to  be  specifically  distraught 
about  the  past.  The  question  of  whether  he  had  been 
wronged  by  this  man  or  that  ceased  to  concern  him  so 
acutely  as  to  clog  his  thoughts.  He  was  still  clinging 
firmly  to  a  resolution  to  discover,  sometime,  what  had 
really  happened  a  year  ago,  but  he  had  succeeded  in 
putting  this  matter  in  its  proper  place  intellectually. 
It  wasn't  properly  the  subject  of  a  direct  crusade;  it 
was  a  side-issue,  important,  but  not  to  be  exaggerated 
—  not  to  be  allowed  to  interfere  with  his  progress. 
And  since  Adams  and  Judge  Perkins  had  volunteered 
to  conduct  a  quiet  investigation  for  him,  he  was  well 
content  to  stand  aside,  and  let  them  do  it. 

Henderson,  naturally  enough,  was  a  puzzle  to  him. 


820  EGAN 

because  Henderson  was  such  an  apparent  contradiction 
in  terms.  But  for  that  matter,  who  wasn't?  Adams 
was.  Kent  was.  Egan  himself  was.  Life  was  too 
short,  thought  Egan,  to  permit  of  the  analysis  of  every 
passing  motive.  It  was  all  right  for  Arnold  Bennett 
to  do  it,  but  that  was  Arnold  Bennett's  business,  and  he 
made  a  profit  out  of  it. 

He  had  abruptly  learned  that  it  was  more  fun  to  be 
a  pioneer,  with  other  pioneers  to  support  him  than  to 
inherit  a  parental  business,  or  to  go  it  alone.  It  was 
fun  to  deal  with  improbabilities  gradually  becoming 
probable.  It  was  fun  to  be  back  in  an  organization 
with  de-centralized  authority,  and  to  make  his  own 
mistakes  and  profit  by  them.  Old  Man  Egan  had 
preached  for  years  of  the  inherent  virtues  of  one-man 
control.  Perhaps  that  was  why  the  Egan  Company 
had  disintegrated  so  rapidly  without  Old  Man  Egan's 
supervision. 

Life  was  unfolding  itself  to  him  as  merely  a  perpetual 
series  of  tolerations.  You  either  tolerated,  and  kept 
fairly  happy;  or  refused  to  tolerate,  and  lived  through 
hell.  Except  for  the  amount  of  money  involved,  the 
occurrences  of  last  autiunn  had  no  more  permanent  sig- 
nificance to  him  than  the  bickerings  of  a  Dorcas  So- 
ciety. His  brain  was  slowly  arriving  at  the  stage 
where  all  men's  brains  ought  logically  to  arrive.  He 
was  learning  to  discard,  without  effort,  everything  non- 
essential to  his  happiness. 

My  friend  Samuel  Merwin  (forgive  this  obtrusion  of 
personality)  has  given  us  one  of  the  very  best  similes 


EGAN  321 

ever  wrung  from  the  English  language.  It  refers  to 
the  storage  battery  in  the  modem  automobile,  which 
automatically  cuts  itself  off  from  the  generator  when 
fully  charged  —  and  to  the  similar  construction  of  some 
people's  emotional  natures. 

Egan  had  one  of  these  natures.  His  own  problems 
had  overcharged  them,  and  automatically  he  cut 
them  off. 

He  fell  into  the  habit  of  calling  rather  often  at  the 
Kents',  but  at  times  when  he  knew  the  Colonel  to  be 
absent.  It  was  a  habit  due  partly  to  actual  desire, 
and  partly  to  an  uncomfortable  sense  of  reaction  from 
Martha  Henderson.  On  one  of  these  occasions,  Mary 
took  him  to  task  for  his  impersonality: 

"  Bronson,"  she  said  aggrievedly,  "  I  don't  believe 
you  like  me  any  more  at  all !     I  don't !  " 

"Why  not.?" 

"  Well,  you  —  you  don't  act  the  same  way." 

Egan  laughed  a  trifle  constrainedly.  **  I  made  you 
a  promise  a  long  time  ago,  didn't  I  ?  " 

"  Well  —  yes.  Only  if  you're  coming  to  see  me  at 
all  you  might  just  as  well  show  a  little  interest." 

When  he  went  home  that  night  he  found  himself 
wondering  whether  he  had  been  quite  fair  to  Mary. 


XXVI 

THERE  were  two  destinations  toward  which 
Egan,  with  equal  loyalty  to  his  employers, 
might  have  travelled  on  the  first  of  February. 
It  was  merely  necessary  that  some  one  from  the  Home 
Office  hasten  to  both  places  in  the  earliest  possible  mo- 
ment. Egan  himself  would  go  in  one  direction,  and 
have  Adams  go  in  the  other.  The  choice  of  objectives 
called  for  no  delicate  analysis  of  the  company's  needs ; 
each  man  could  handle  the  ground  architecture  of  a 
field  as  well  as  the  other.  Dayton  was  perhaps  one 
degree  more  important,  for  this  particular  purpose, 
than  Cincinnati  —  perhaps  one  degree,  perhaps  not 
even  that.  But  from  the  moment  that  Egan  began  to 
weigh  his  own  responsibilities,  he  knew  in  his  heart  that 
his  judgment  was  already  made.  He  declined  to  give 
Cincinnati  the  benefit  of  even  that  single  degree  of 
doubt.  He  should  send  Adams  to  Cincinnati,  and  he 
himself  should  go  to  Dayton.  He  even  planned  to  go 
on  Sunday  morning,  in  order  to  insure  a  fine,  fresh  start 
on  Monday. 

On  the  train,  he  convinced  himself,  as  though  it  were 
a  new  and  unforeseen  subject,  that  there  was  really  no 
reason  why  he  shouldn't  go  to  call  on  Martha  Hender- 
son. He  mustn't,  of  course,  allow  such  a  pretty  diver- 
sion to  interfere  with  business.  But  there  was  plenty 
of  time  —  plenty  of  it.  He  had  carefully  arranged  for 
it  in  advance.     One  can't  do  very  much  business  on 

Sunday  afternoon.     That  was  providential. 

322 


EGAN  S23 

Fortunately,  Martha  was  at  home.  She  was  "  at 
home  "  in  more  than  one  sense,  as  Egan  discovered  to 
his  disappointment.  Somehow  he  had  never  imagined 
Martha  as  "  popular."  He  had  rather  fancied  that  her 
best  qualities  wouldn't  appeal  to  the  masses.  He  had 
prided  himself  as  an  appreciative  critic  of  the  unosten- 
tatious. Now,  while  he  waited  by  the  hall-mirror  for 
the  maid  to  announce  him,  he  was  healthily  piqued  by 
the  variety  of  masculine  voices  drifting  in  from  the 
living-room.  There  were  girls'  voices,  too,  but  these 
were  inconsequential.  A  woman's  place  is  in  the  home, 
anyway  —  even  in  Martha's  home.  But  the  men  were 
out  of  harmony  with  Egan. 

Martha  herself  came  out  to  greet  him.  She  seemed 
to  have  even  more  poise  than  he  had  remembered,  and 
Egan  seemed  to  have  even  less  than  he  had  counted  on« 

"  Why,  what  a  surprise.  "  she  cried,  giving  him  both 
her  hands.  "  I  thought  Father  said  you'd  gone  to  Cin- 
cinnati ! " 

"  I  .  .  .  er  .  .  .  changed  my  mind,"  said  Egan^ 
"  Am  I  interrupting  — "  » 

"  Nonsense !  Do  come  in.  ...  I  always  wanted  you 
to  meet  my  friends.  And  now  that  you're  here,  they're 
all  together !  "  Her  tone  was  cordial  enough,  and  her 
pleasure  at  his  arrival  was  apparent,  but  Egan's  mood 
sank  appreciably.  He  had  no  reason  to  resent  the 
presence  of  other  men,  but  he  did.  While  he  argued 
that  he  ought  to  be  glad  to  be  here  at  all,  and  while  he 
recognized  that  he  was  glad,  he  was  unhappy  about  it» 
Porcellian.  The  sight  of  at  least  eight  young  men  in 
the  living-room  made  him  worse. 

Her  friends  proved  to  be  neither  more  nor  less  at- 


324  EGAN 

tractive  than  Egan  had  expected;  the  girls  didn't  suf- 
fer by  comparison  with  Plainfield  girls,  and  the  men, 
Egan  thought,  grudgingly,  were  really  quite  personable. 
They  understood  the  elements  of  hospitality,  too.  They 
did  their  obvious  best,  for  Martha's  sake,  to  make  him 
temporarily  one  of  themselves ;  there  was  a  good  deal 
of  camaraderie  which  was  plainly  created  out  of  stock 
on  hand.  Egan  was  too  sage  to  be  flattered,  even  when 
the  liveliest  admiration  of  his  business  connection  was 
professed.  He  knew  that  Dayton  was  the  cradle  of  the 
airplane.  He  knew  that  he  was  no  more  a  hero  in  this 
setting,  and  brought  no  more  novelty  to  it,  than  if  he 
had  joined  the  staff  of  a  new  automobile  company  in 
Detroit.  Why,  some  of  the  people  in  this  very  room 
might  have  taken  their  bicycles  to  the  Wright  brothers 
to  have  new  tires  put  on,  or  the  chain  graphited.  The 
sudden  upset  of  his  emotions  led  him  almost  to  feel  thai 
he  was  unwelcome. 

His  grewsome  thoughts  of  departure  were  checked  by 
the  unanticipated  appearance  of  Martin  Henderson, 
who  came  in  jubilant.  Egan,  speculating  upon  the 
cause  of  his  effervescence,  was  rather  confused  to  find 
that  it  was  nothing  more  important  than  the  present 
gathering.  He  had  never  suspected  Henderson  of  pop- 
ularity, either.  But  whatever  his  reputation  in  Plain- 
field,  Henderson  seemed  to  attract  plenty  of  honour  in 
his  own  country.  The  barometer  of  the  younger  set  is 
pretty  accurate.  Instantly  upon  his  entrance  Hender- 
son had  been  surrounded.     He  was  a  great  favourite. 

"  Why  —  well,  if  it  isn't  Mr.  Egan !  "  he  exclaimed 
heartily.  "  Welcome  to  our  city !  I  thought  you'd 
gone  to  Cincinnati  I     Martha  asked  me  about  you  only 


EGAN  325 

last  night,  and  I  told  her  you  were  going  the  other  way ! 
I  do  like  your  taste.  Well !  How'd  you  like  our  boys 
and  girls?  "  He  radiated  his  satisfaction  in  their  gen- 
eral average.     "  Great,  aren't  they.''  " 

To  Egan,  although  he  spoke  in  warmed-over  super- 
latives, it  was  as  though  his  host  had  drawn  an  insur- 
mountable line  of  demarcation  between  them. 

More  and  more  keenly,  as  the  afternoon  wore  into 
dusk,  he  felt  his  own  intrusiveness.  It  put  him  over 
half  a  dozen  different  mental  hurdles.  He  was  regret- 
ful, irritated,  resigned,  envious,  tortured  and  regretful 
again.  Twice  he  determined  to  leave;  twice  he  re- 
pented, without  quitting  his  seat.  It  appeared  that 
Sunday  night  supper,  with  every  one  supposed  to  lend 
a  hand,  was  already  getting  under  way.  Egan,  the 
only  guest,  who  wasn't  perfectly  at  home,  lingered  be- 
hind the  others  until  Henderson,  genially  dominating, 
swooped  down  upon  him.  Presently,  without  quite  un- 
derstanding how  he  had  got  there,  Egan  was  in  the 
kitchen,  with  a  big  checked  apron  over  him,  slicing 
cheese  for  rarebits,  and  making  a  very  inefficient  job 
of  it.  There  were  only  three  other  people  in  the 
kitchen  —  two  girls  and  a  man.  Martha,  nodding  to- 
wards the  pair  who  were  rummaging  in  all  the  closets, 
had  just  whispered  to  him:  "  They're  engaged!  "  She 
leaned  close  to  him  to  whisper,  and  her  hair  brushed  his 
cheek. 

Egan  went  on  stolidly,  although  it  was  sheer  luck 
that  he  didn't  slice  his  fingers.  It  was  his  first  experi- 
ence, for  many  years,  in  this  superficial  sort  of  domes- 
ticity which  has  so  many  fatal  endings.  He  thought 
that  Martha  had  never  appeared  more  adorable. 


326  EGAN 

**  Mary  doesn't  care  much  for  this  sort  of  thing,** 
he  said,  all  but  unconsciously, 

"  Oh !     Why,  no,  I  don't  believe  she  does." 

After  a  pause.     "  You  like  it,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  We've  always  done  it  Sunday  nights,"  she  said. 

"  No  cook  —  or  anything?  " 

"  Mercy,  no!  What  do  we  want  a  cook  for?  Isn't 
this  more  fun?  " 

Egan  slashed  viciously  at  a  fresh  slab. 

"  That's  so." 

"  Let  me  take  what  you've  got  ...  I  always  make 
a  cream  gravy  first;  it  keeps  it  from  being  stringy." 

Egan  absent-mindedly  followed  her  to  the  range,  his 
brain  mechanically  occupying  itself  with  the  salary  of  a 
cook.  The  engaged  couple  had  slipped  out,  announc- 
ing to  the  world  at  large  that  they  were  bound  to  ran- 
sack the  ice-box,  and  could  do  it  unassisted. 

"  I'm  awfully  glad  you  made  me  take  that  job,"  he 
said.  "  For  one  thing,  it's  taught  me  how  much  I 
didn't  know." 

Martha,  flushed  from  her  propinquity  to  the  stove, 
looked  up  and  laughed.     "  I  didn't  know  I  made  you." 

"  Well  .  .  .  you  did.  .  .  .  Isn't  there  anything  else 
I  can  do  to  help  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so ;  we'll  have  to  wait  a  few  min- 
utes .  .  ." 

Egan  was  happily  ignorant  of  the  effect  of  the  apron. 

"  One  way  and  another,  you've  pretty  nearly  man- 
aged my  life  for  me  since  I  came  back." 

She  laughed  again.  "  Well,  if  I  have,  I  hope  you 
like  the  way  I've  done  it." 


EGAN  Sn 

*'  I  almost  do,"  said  Egan  gravely.  Here  their  eyes 
met,  and  both  of  them  moved  imperceptibly  backwards. 
They  watched  the  stove  for  a  moment.  The  pot  re- 
fused to  boil. 

"  I  hope  you're  as  happy  about  everything  as  my 
father  is,"  she  observed  absently. 

"  Oh  J     Is  he  so  happy  ?  " 

"  Yes."  She  looked  at  him  sidewise.  "  Perhaps 
you'd  never  guess  it,  but  he's  one  of  the  most  sensitive 
men  I  ever  knew." 

"  No  ;  I  wouldn't  have  imagined  that." 

"  It's  meant  ever  so  much  more  to  him  to  have  you 
go  with  the  Company  than  it  has  to  you.  I'm  pretty 
sure  you  know  why,  too  .  .  .  don't  you?  And  if  you 
could  get  j  ust  a  little  more  confidence  in  each  other,  he'd 
tell  you  lots  of  things." 

"What  sort  of  things.?" 

"  I  really  can't  .  .  .  ooh,  Bronson,  it's  boiling ! " 
She  snatched  frantically,  burned  her  fingers  not  quite 
enough  to  precipitate  a  climax ;  and  Egan,  snatching  to 
help  her,  burned  his  so  briskly  that  for  the  space  of 
several  minutes  he  lived  wholly  in  the  immediate  pres- 
ent. After  that,  he  had  leisure  to  be  inspired  by  the 
recollection  that  she  had  called  him  "  Bronson."  In 
spite  of  their  mutual  comprehensions,  it  was  the  first 
time.  For  the  remainder  of  the  evening,  although  he 
hadn't  another  word  with  her  in  private,  and  for  the 
most  part  sat  separated  from  her  by  a  dozen  feet,  he 
felt  as  near  to  her  as  though  they  had  embraced. 

He  remained  for  a  week  in  Dayton,  and  after  the 


328  EGAN 

first  night,  he  stayed  at  the  Hendersons'.  Conscience 
rebuked  him  doubly ;  once  because  Martha  lived  in  that 
house ;  and  once  because  Henderson  lived  there. 

The  Martha  part  of  it  he  could  manage  to  discount ; 
for  he  assured  himself  that  not  the  mere  circumstance 
itself,  but  only  his  behaviour  towards  it,  could  deserve 
censure.  But  in  regard  to  Henderson,  he  had  to  con- 
fess that  he  was  uncertain.  He  had  begun  to  respect 
Henderson  for  a  few  definite  virtues;  he  could  manage 
even  to  like  some  of  Henderson's  personal  qualities.  He 
owed  his  present  high  status  in  life  entirely  to  Hen- 
derson, but  perhaps  he  owed  a  part  of  the  paternal  ca- 
tastrophe to  Henderson,  too.  He  would  have  given 
much  to  know  which  of  them  rested  under  the  greater 
obligation. 

He  daily  excused  himself  on  the  ground  of  expedi- 
ency. He  had  always  maintained  that  his  chief  rea*- 
son  for  joining  the  Air  Traffic  forces  was  to  study 
Henderson  and  his  methods  at  close  quarters.  He  tried 
to  persuade  himself  that  his  residence  with  Henderson 
was  for  the  same  purpose.  But  there  was  no  denying 
that  his  theory  was  equivocal.  Egan  knew  it.  He 
should  either  accept  the  man's  hospitality  uncondi- 
tionally, or  reject  it  likewise ;  and  not  accept  it  simply 
to  be  near  Martha. 

Nothing  could  have  shaken  his  inherited  dogmatism 
more  profoundly  than  this  close  association  with  Hen- 
derson. 

"  The  thing  that  bothers  me  the  most,"  his  host  said 
to  him  one  evening,  "  is  education.  Out  here  in  Ohio  I 
can  scrabble  along  all  right  —  there's  so  many  others 
in  the  same  boat.     Most  of  us  started  the  same  way. 


EGAN  329 

But  in  New  York  —  and  Philadelphia  —  and  Boston ! 
My  God,  they  act  as  if  they  think  a  man  must  be  either 
crooked  or  incompetent  if  he  didn't  go  to  college  some- 
where. And  if  he  ever  worked  with  his  hands,  he's  got 
the  gate  before  he  starts.  I'd  give  my  shirt  to  have  it 
to  do  over  again !  " 

"  You'd  have  gone  to  college,  Mr.  Henderson  ?  " 

"Worked  through,  yes.  I  know  it's  no  joke  to  do 
that,  but  it  pays.  I  can  see  it  now.  Then,  I  thought 
it  was  wasted  time.  Quit  school  when  I  was  sixteen, 
and  took  to  a  trade." 

"  What  was  it,  Mr.  Henderson  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  got  to  be  an  instrument-maker."  He 
laughed.  "  Maybe  you  wouldn't  guess  it,  but  it's  still 
sort  of  hard  for  me  to  remember  sometimes  that  I  don't 
represent  a  union.  When  I'm  talking  to  a  capitalist, 
and  he  says  something  capitalistic  I  get  just  as  bellig- 
erent as  if  I  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence  yet. 
Never  got  over  it.  But  —  oh,  I  worked  and  I  studied 
and  I  read.  Read  everything  I  could  lay  my  hands  on. 
The  point  ain't  that  I've  got  three  thousand  books  in 
that  library  there  —  but  I've  read  'em.  You've  noticed 
they're  mostly  technical.  And  —  oh,  it  worked  out 
pretty  well.  All  except  that  one  thing.  When  I  get 
real  mad,  I  can't  get  mad  like  an  educated  man,  I  get 
mad  like  a  workingman."  He  regarded  Egan  tenta- 
tively.    "  That's  why  your  dad  and  I  fell  out." 

Egan  made  no  comment,  but  his  attitude  was  inviting. 

"  We  had  a  conference  one  time  about  a  trade  ar- 
rangement to  divide  up  competing  lines  so  we  wouldn't 
cut  each  other's  throats  too  much.  And  he  was  an 
awful  good  trader.     I  guess  I  thought  he  was  too  good, 


330  EGAN 

and  he  thought  I  was  out  to  get  something  for  nothing. 
And  you  know  how  he  was  when  he  got  mad.  Like  a 
piece  of  granite.  Like  a  turtle  in  a  shell.  That  al- 
ways stirs  me  up;  I  could  always  fight  with  my  hands 
and  I  could  always  fight  with  my  mouth,  but  I  never 
could  fight  keeping  still.  So  I  said  a  lot.  Oh  —  a  lot ! 
Probably  no  worse  than  what  he  was  thinking,  but  he 
didn't  say  it.  And  it  was  pretty  rough  —  that's  what 
I'm  telling  you.  And  the  very  next  day  he  went  and 
made  a  deal  with  George  Kent,  and  I  accused  him  of 
using  what  I'd  told  him  the  day  before  as  a  sledge  to  use 
on  Kent  —  and  that's  that."  The  big  man  gestured. 
"  Bronson,  my  reputation  in  Plainfield's  based  on  that. 
Not  another  damned  thing.  Your  dad's  opinion.  I 
was  wrong  and  he  was  wrong.  But  your  dad  and 
George  Kent  thought  I  was  a  roughneck.  That  made 
'em  think  I  was  unprincipled.  That  made  'em  look  for 
trouble.  Every  mistake  in  a  bill  of  goods  to  Plainfield 
just  made  'em  keep  on  saying  Henderson's  trying  to  put 
something  over.  Every  hold-up  on  delivery.  Every 
claim.  Every  everything.  But  if  you  ask  'em  in 
Dayton  .  .  ." 

The  reason  for  Egan's  silence  was  founded  exactly 
upon  this  point.  He  had  quietly  been  asking  'em  in 
Dayton.  And  either  Dayton  had  been  hoodwinked  for 
twenty  years,  or  Old  Man  Egan  had  made  a  rotten  bad 
appraisal  of  Martin  Henderson. 

"  You're  not  fond  of  Kent,  then  I  take  it.?  " 

«  No." 

"Nor  Eddie  Macklin?" 

"  Humph !  "  Henderson's  mouth  expressed  his  scorn. 
"  I'll  give  you  an  idea  of  that  chap's  value.     When  the 


EGAN  331 

Citizens  Trust  was  going  to  sell  your  stock,  he  sent  me 
word  in  a  roundabout  way  —  suggested  I  buy  it  so  as 
to  grab  your  control  away  from  you !  Wanted  twenty 
per  cent  commission  for  giving  me  the  information. 
And  your  dad  dying  at  the  time !  " 

"  And  you  said  — " 

"  I  said  I'd  put  him  out  of  politics  for  it.  He  tried 
to  tell  me  that  somebody  was  going  to  buy  your  stock, 
and  it  might  as  well  be  me.  I  wish  I  had,  now;  I 
wouldn't  have  made  the  mess  of  it  that  those  fellows  did. 
But  I  said  I'd  put  him  out,  and  I'm  doing  it.  Now. 
This  minute.  The  idea  of  his  sending  me  word  he  had 
the  biggest  chance  of  a  lifetime  —  and  I  got  up  at  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning  to  take  the  Owl  because  he  said 
every  minute  counted !  " 

Egan  said  nothing,  immediately.  But  he  thought 
much.  And  when  he  had  arrived  at  the  terminal  of  his 
thoughts,  he  had  done  what  is  perhaps  the  hardest  thing 
for  any  high-spirited  young  man  to  do  in  cold  blood. 
He  gave  Henderson  a  tacit  apology  for  an  unspoken 
opinion  about  him.  But  he  couldn't  say  it  aloud. 
Henderson  was  too  big  and  too  sincere,  to  let  him 
say  it. 

"  That's  mighty  interesting."  He  was  inclined  to 
tell  Henderson  how  George  Kent  had  blazed  up  at  the 
mere  mention  of  this  incident,  but  he  decided  that  there 
was  little  use  in  extending  the  radius  of  the  informa- 
tion. Judge  Perkins  and  Stanley  Adams  were  already 
acting  upon  it. 

He  had  a  number  of  pleasant  opportunities  to  make 
tiie  better  acquaintance  of  Martha,  and  pleasantly  he 


332  EGAN 

made  it.  She  reminded  him  so  much  of  Mary.  He  re- 
ligiously counted  the  days  before  he  could  return  to 
Mary's  neighbourhood.  Once  he  said  to  himself 
"  must  "  instead  of  "  could,"  and  he  was  awed  by  the 
substitution.  His  ancient  affection  for  Mary  had 
never  waned,  but  the  expression  of  its  present  degree 
was- difficult.  He  had  felt  that  in  view  of  her  engage- 
ment, the  expression  of  it  was  almost  unmoral.  And  to 
a  man  of  Egan's  nature,  there  arose  a  set  of  inhibi- 
tions around  the  things  he  couldn't  express.  His  af- 
fection for  her  had  become  almost  dogged,  to  prevent 
him  from  forgetting  that  he  had  it. 

His  mission  in  Dayton  was  to  end  on  Saturday,  and 
out  of  sheer  ancestral  arbitrariness,  he  determined  to 
go  to  Plainfield  on  Saturday  night,  because  he  held  that 
to  linger  over  the  following  Sunday  would  be  a  compro- 
mise he  wasn't  prepared  to  make.  To  be  sure,  Mary 
would  have  no  time  for  him  on  Sunday,  and  Martha 
would  have  plenty,  but  this  wasn't  the  point.  He  ar- 
gued that  it  was  inconsistent  of  him  to  enjoy  himself, 

Henderson  picked  him  up  at  the  local  field  at  five 
o'clock,  and  drove  him  home.  In  the  living-room,  Mar- 
tha was  peacefully  embroidering. 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  Mary  with  some  Plainfield 
news  in  it  for  you,"  she  said.  *'  Eddie  Macklin  wasn't 
even  nominated  for  Mayor !  " 

"  That  happened  yesterday,  Martie,"  said  Hender- 
son, in  kind  confirmation.  "  I  meant  to  tell  you  at 
breakfast." 

Egan  grew  red.  "  Not  even  nominated?  "  He  was 
striving  to  bury  his  satisfaction  ;  honestly  trying  not  to 
gloat.     His  pleasure  wasn't  malicious ;  Macklin's  de- 


EGAN  333 

feat  seemed  to  him  the  best  possible  thing  for  the  com- 
munity. 

Henderson  put  his  hand  on  Egan's  shoulder.  "  That 
was  settled  weeks  ago.  I  thought  you  had  foresight, 
Bronson.  The  meeting  when  you  were  elected  a  di- 
rector." 

Egan  dimly  recalled  what  Little  Johnny  Jones  had 
said  to  him  about  submarine  politics.  "  Was  that  — 
did  that  make  any  difference.''  " 

The  capitalist  nodded. 

"  You've  got  to  bear  in  mind,  my  boy,  that  that 
little  directorate  of  ours  represents  the  seventeen  big- 
gest manufacturing  businesses  in  Plainfield,  both  the 
papers,  all  the  banks,  and  then  some.  We  don't  con- 
trol politics ;  we  are  politics.  That  meeting  was  more 
of  a  try-out  than  anything  else.  Me  and  George  Kent. 
We  had  a  show-down  that  afternoon.  Eddie  didn't 
get  one  single,  solitary  vote.  So  we  beat  him  yesterday 
without  using  even  half  of  our  ammunition.  Adams. 
I'm  glad  we  kept  that  out  of  it ;  aren't  you .''  " 

"  Yes,  but  .  .  .  but  I  don't  see  — " 

Egan  was  bewildered  by  Henderson's  apparent  om- 
niscience. 

"  Didn't  you  know  that  Ed  couldn't  get  anywhere 
without  Kent,  and  Kent's  friends .?  " 

"  Why,  I  — " 

"  When  the  directors  outvoted  Kent  that  afternoon 
—  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  —  it  meant  good-bye  for 
Eddie.  They've  done  with  him.  He's  no  good  to  'em 
from  now  on,  and  if  they  pushed  him  for  Mayor  it  would 
have  cost  too  much  money.  I'll  spare  your  blushes, 
and  leave  out  some  of  it.     But  — " 


334  EGAN 

"  But,    Mr.    Henderson.       When    you    live    here, 

and  — " 

Henderson  nodded  again.  "  I  own  both  your  papers, 
though,  and  I've  got  all  the  way  from  five  to  fifty  per 
cent  interests  in  a  dozen  different  concerns  over  there. 
I'm  going  to  move  over  bag  and  baggage  next  year.  I 
don't  mix  into  politics  much,  but  when  I  do  —  I  don't 
always  need  the  sort  of  campaign  material  that  your 
acquaintance  Adams  showed  me  the  last  time  I  was 
over  there." 

Egan  gulped.     "  You  own  the  Times?  " 

"  Through  a  Jersey  holding  company.  What's  the 
matter.?  " 

"  When  did  you  buy  it,  Mr.  Henderson  ?  " 

**  Oh,  about  a  month  ago.  Just  before  that  meeting. 
I  bought  the  Herald  the  same  week.     Whj?  " 

Egan  relaxed.     "  Nothing." 

Martha,  who  had  been  listening  intently,  rose.  "  You 
ought  to  have  told  me  you'd  bought  the  Times,"  she 
said  reproachfully.  "  It's  time  to  get  ready  for  dinner 
—  but  you  ought  to  have  told  me.  There's  a  man  there 
ydu've  simply  got  to  have  discharged." 

Henderson's  face  clouded.  "  Careful,  Martie.  And 
listen,  both  of  you.  You're  not  to  mention  outside  that 
I've  got  any  interest  in  either  of  those  papers.  It  isn't 
time  yet.     Remember.''  " 

"  No,"  said  Martha.  "  I  won't  be  careful.  I  mean 
it.  The  man  who  wrote  that  awful  piece  about  Bron- 
son.     I  want  him  discharged." 

"  He  went  long  ago,"  said  Henderson,  on  the 
threshold. 


EGAN  335 

At  dinner,  they  talked  chiefly  of  aerial  navigation, 
and  of  the  enterprise  in  which  they  all  were  chiefly  in- 
terested. 

"  Of  course  you  know,"  said  Henderson  over  the 
salad,  "  I  expect  we'll  fail,  don't  you  ?  " 

Egan  and  Martha  had  stared  at  him  in  equal  con- 
sternation. 

"  Yes,"  said  Henderson  thoughtfully,  "  I  expect  we 
will.     I  don't  see  how  we  can  help  it." 

"  But,  Father !  What  made  you  go  into  it  if  you 
thought  — " 

"  What's  happened  to  the  first  steamship  lines  ?  Or 
the  first  railroad  companies?  Or  even  the  first  few  au- 
tomobile companies?  " 

Egan  laid  down  his  fork.  *'  Haven't  we  advantages 
they  didn't  have?     And  capital?     And  patience?  " 

"  But  we'll  probably  fail  .  .  .  Martie,  I  don't  do 
everything  just  for  the  money  there  is  in  it.  This  is 
something  bigger.  Maybe  there  wouldn't  be  many  men 
to  agree  with  me,  but  I'd  feel  more  like  bragging  about 
my  great-great-grandfather  if  he'd  backed  Robert  Ful- 
ton and  gone  broke  than  if  he'd  taken  shares  in  a  West 
Indiaman  for  rum  and  molasses,  and  made  a  fortune. 
We're  frontiersmen  in  this  thing  —  and  they're  the 
ones  who  blaze  the  trail.  They're  the  ones  who  work 
like  dogs  to  lay  out  the  lines,  and  make  it  easy  for  the 
second  generation  to  build  roads,  and  the  third  gener- 
ation to  buy  Pullman  tickets.  We've  got  to  fail,  Bron- 
son  —  as  every  scheme  that's  aimed  at  world-utility  has 
got  to  fail.  I  dare  say  we've  got  one  chance  in  ten 
thousand." 


336  EGAN 

Egan  was  fundamentally  distraught.  "Do  you 
mean  to  say  you  went  into  this  expecting  to  lose  ?  " 

"  Why  not?  Wasn't  there  a  bird  they  called  a 
Phoenix?  He  had  a  fine  trait  in  him.  You  could  broil 
him  for  supper,  and  he'd  sort  of  get  up,  and  walk  off 
the  dish,  and  call  it  another  day.  .  .  .  We're  like  that. 
We  may  fail  —  not  that  we'll  try  to  —  but  if  we  do, 
we'll  have  gone  a  big  jiunp  ahead.  The  next  war'll  be 
in  the  air.  The  next  great  channel  of  transportation'll 
be  in  the  air.  This  company's  a  mile  behind  the  others 
already.  I'm  simply  buying  some  Liberty  bonds  on 
the  future.  You'll  wear  a  uniform  again  before  you're 
thirty-five,  Bronson.  And  you  and  I'll  be  in  a  position 
to  do  some  constructive  good."  He  caught  Egan's 
eye.  "  If  we  shotdd  fail,  don't  be  afraid  I  won't  take 
good  care  of  you — " 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  altogether  of  that  .  .  ." 

"I  know;  but  you  thought  a  little  about  it.  Well, 
don't  you  worry." 

"  Do  you  think  all  these  new  companies  will  go  under, 
then?" 

"The  majority  —  the  great  majority.  Survival  of 
the  fittest.  The  whole  thing's  changing  so  fast.  A 
novelty  today's  obsolete  tomorrow.  That's  why.  But 
if  we  go  under  with  the  rest,  Bronson  — " 

Martha  laughed.  "  You'll  walk  off  the  dish  and  call 
it  another  day.  Father?  " 

"  That's  how  we  get  along,"  said  Henderson.  He 
beamed  at  Egan.  "  I've  got  another  dish  for  you  to 
walk  off  of  as  soon  as  you're  ready,  son.  Richards  is 
quitting." 

"Is  that  so?" 


EGAN  337 

"  By  request,"  said  Henderson.  "  How'd  you  like  to 
take  his  place?  " 

Egan  was  thrilled,  but  shook  his  head.  "  I  ...  I 
don't  believe  I  can  swing  it  —  yet,  Mr.  Henderson." 

"  That's  what  I  thought  you'd  say  —  so  we're  boost- 
ing your  salary  instead." 

Egan's  train  was  scheduled  to  leave  at  9.40,  so  that 
after  dinner,  and  the  customary  cigar  with  Henderson, 
there  remained  only  the  fraction  of  an  hour  for  a  last 
interlude  with  Martha.  Her  father  had  considerately 
pleaded  a  deep  desire  for  some  modern  literature,  and 
wandered  into  the  library,  noiselessly  closing  the  door  in 
order  that  he  shouldn't  be  disturbed. 

Before  the  open  fire  the  two  young  people  sat  si- 
lently, for  at  least  half  of  their  allotment.  In  the  fire, 
they  each  saw  countless  fantasies  not  to  be  disclosed. 
Both  were  self-congratulatory  that  they  had  come 
through  this  week  without  the  need  of  regret. 

At  length  Egan  coughed,  and  not  as  a  symptom.  *'  J\ 
couldn't  go  away  without  letting  you  know  I'm  friends 
with  your  father." 

She  turned  radiantly.  "  Oh,  Bronson !  That's  the 
best  thing — " 

"  It's  a  funny  world,"  said  Egan.  "  Darned 
funny  .  .  ." 

She  put  out  her  hand  to  him,  and  he  held  it  for  a  swift 
instant  of  comprehension  before  she  withdrew  it.  The 
clock  continued  its  relentless  pacing-off  of  the  eve- 
ning. 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  have  had  you  here  this  week,"  she 
said,  her  chin  resting  on  her  palm. 

"  You're  no  gladder  than  I  am." 


338  EGAN 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  am.  I've  learned  to  know  you  so 
well.     So  much  that  I  never  would  have  known." 

Egan  couldn't  keep  his  eyes  from  her,  and  his  eyes 
sent  burning  despatches  to  his  heart.  She  was  peri- 
lously dear  to  him,  and  the  certainty  of  leaving  her  to- 
night brought  gloom  to  his  innermost  soul.  Out  of 
this  gloom,  he  was  rudely  shaken  by  the  sudden  realiza- 
tion that  he  wanted  to  snatch  her  in  his  arms  .  .  . 

"  Weren't  we  going  to  keep  on  being  friends  ?  " 

"Yes,  but— " 

The  drumming  of  his  heart  affected  his  tongue,  and 
made  him  stammer. 

"  I  expect  to  be  in  Dayton  pretty  often  —  and  then 
if  you  come  to  live  in  Plainfield  — " 

"  It  wouldn't  be  the  same  again,"  she  said.  There 
was  strong  essence  of  regret  in  her  tone,  and  yet  she 
wasn't  fencing.  She  was  voicing  a  genuine  feeling. 
That  was  a  splendid  trait  of  Martha's ;  you  could  bank 
on  what  she  said. 

"  Not  ever?  " 

"Not  ever." 

Egan  leaned  far  towards  her. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  Are  you  going  to  treat  me  so 
very  differently  after  this.''  " 

"  It  isn't  about  me  —  it's  about  you." 

"  What  is?  "  he  demanded. 

She  sat  up,  and  looked  across  at  him.  Her  eyes 
were  very  soft  and  expressive;  Egan  was  vaguely  sus- 
picious of  a  shadow  of  pity  in  them. 

"  I  told  you  you'd  win  —  didn't  I  ?  There  was  some- 
thing else  in  my  letter.     I  didn't  want  to  tell  you  be- 


EGAN  339 

fore  Father.  About  Mr.  Macklin.  But  you  ought  to 
know  before  jou  get  there  —  you'd  want  to." 

Egan's  pulse  quickened.  "  What's  happened  to 
him?  " 

Martha  smiled.  Not  so  much  pity  now  —  a  gentle 
smile,  in  which  was  summed  up  all  that  she  never  might 
say  to  him. 

"  Mary's  broken  her  engagement,  Bronson." 


XXVII 

AFTER  mature  reflection  it  seemed  to  Egan 
hardly  fitting  for  him  to  call  at  once  on  Mary 
Kent.  He  was  relieved  that  his  tact  laid  this 
injunction  on  him,  for  in  sober  earnest  he  was  loath  to 
call.  Things  had  been  going  crossways,  and  he  wanted 
plenty  of  latitude  to  think  them  over.  The  prospect  of 
G.  Willoughby  Kent  as  a  father-in-law  had  definitely 
ceased  to  be  alluring.  The  prospect  of  Mary  as  a  wife 
—  an  unequivocal,  everyday  wife  —  was  startling.  He 
had  never  really  visualized  her,  until  now,  as  a  wife. 
He  had  thought  of  her  only  as  a  sort  of  perpetual 
fiancee.  Wifehood  as  a  career  was  palpably  unsuited 
to  Mary.  She  would  belong  not  to  her  husband,  but 
to  society.  Yet  he  had  made  her  a  reversionary  pro- 
posal. Automatically,  that  proposal  became  effective 
on  the  moment  that  she  turned  aside  from  Eddie  Mack- 
lin.     And  she  was  said  to  have  turned. 

He  had  hurried  away  from  Martha  for  Mary's  sake, 
but  he  kept  away  from  Mary  that  Sunday  for  his  own 
sake.  He  went  out  alone  over  the  frozen  roads  to  the 
flying  fields,  and  found  a  certain  perversive  comfort  in 
the  grey  bitterness  of  the  weather.  He  tried  desper- 
ately hard  to  think  of  Mary,  and  to  think  of  her  ex- 
clusively, because  he  felt  that  it  was  the  only  right  thing 
for  him  to  do.  But  the  task  of  arguing  himself  into 
acute  concentration  was  beyond  him.  He  was  ashamed 
of  the  weakness  of  his  resolution ;  he  called  himself  harsh 

names,   and  fancied  that  he  was  beyond  redemption. 

340 


EGAN  341 

He  didn't  realize,  then,  that  no  man  has  ever  been  the 
despotic  master  of  his  thoughts,  not  even  at  a  funeral. 
For  a  single  instant,  he  could  compel  himself  to  con- 
centrate on  Mary.  Mary  —  whom  he  had  adored  since 
boyhood.  He  remembered  fighting  Eddie  Macklin  for 
her  after  school.  He  remembered  how  Eddie  had  bit- 
ten him.  He  grinned  reminiscently  as  he  found  himself 
touching  his  ear.  That  same  ear  had  been  frost-bitten 
in  the  Vosges.  A  cruel  country,  that  —  and  these  iron- 
rutted  roads,  by  comparison,  were  splendid  boulevards. 
He  had  a  swift  vision  of  his  last  ambulance,  turned  up- 
wards in  an  icy  ditch,  and  wriggling  its  wheels  like 
some  monstrosity  of  an  insect.  But  it  wasn't  funny, 
especially  for  the  men  inside.  One  of  them  had  recov- 
ered, and  won  a  D.  S.  C.  His  name  was  Bergwasser, 
and  he  came  from  .  .  .  oh.  Lord !  What  was  the  name 
of  the  place  that  man  came  from.'*     Never  mind.     Well 

—  oh,  there  was  Mary.  Pretty  —  yes,  superlatively. 
Sweet  dispositioned  —  yes,  but  —  But  what  on  earth 
•was  the  name  of  the  place  Bergwasser  came  from? 
Good  old  Bergwasser.  Used  to  tell  about  his  father's 
little  tannery,  just  ready  to  fail  when  the  war  broke  out 
and  Russian  roubles  made  him  a  rich  man.     War  profits 

—  a  nice  thing  to  tell  your  grandchildren.  Plainfield 
had  made  millions  —  tens  of  millions.  Kent  had  prob- 
ably made  four  or  five  himself.  And  The  Egan  Com- 
pany had  gone  by  the  board.  That  skunk  Macklin ! 
That  man  —  and  Mary.  To  be  sure  —  Mary.  What 
could  she  have  seen  in  him?  Poor  Mary.  Dear  little 
Mary.  She  —  Eureka !  The  name  of  the  place  Berg- 
wasser came  from  was  Waupoos,  Iowa  ! 

But  when  Martha  Henderson  became  all  at  once  a 


342  EGAN 

pa-ssenger  on  his  train  of  dreams,  that  train  never 
halted,  nor  turned  out  on  a  siding,  nor  wrecked  on  a 
matter  of  geography. 

He  sat  huddled  on  the  steps  of  the  little  administra- 
tion building  to  smoke  a  cheerless  cigarette.  Ethics 
were  hampering  devices  for  the  accurate  calibration  of  a 
man's  soul.  He  felt  that  he  must  be  a  scoundrel  for 
harbouring  all  these  curious  reflexes,  and  yet  he  couldn't 
feel  as  scoundrelly  as  he  thought  he  ought  to.  He  had 
read  somewhere  that  when  a  man  charges  himself  with 
any  serious  defect,  he  is  merely  self-conscious  of  his 
own  self-esteem, —  for  privately,  the  average  man  would 
still  consider  himself  to  be  a  pretty  decent  fellow,  in 
spite  of  the  defect.  He  wondered  if  he  were  as  con- 
ceited as  all  that.  It  was  so  horribly  unsatisfying  to 
be  in  doubt  about  it.  He  wondered  if  it  were  indeed 
scoundrelly  to  consider  this  particular  obligation  to- 
wards Mary  in  the  same  light  as  he  would  normally  con- 
sider any  conceivable  obligation,  except  this  one.  Th^ 
obligation  itself  was  basically  imaginary.  There  was 
only  one  party  to  it  —  himself.  Mary  had  been  en- 
gaged to  Macklin  at  the  time,  and  she  had  promised 
nothing.  Egan  had  stated  to  her  a  fact,  and  an  inten- 
tion. The  fact  was  that  he  loved  her.  The  intention 
referred  to  marriage  by  victory  over  Macklin.  The 
past  facts  may  not  necessarily  be  present  facts.  This 
one  wasn't.  Intentions,  weathered  by  experience,  can 
crumble  without  depositing  so  much  as  a  dusty  residue 
of  regret.  These  had.  Would  it  be  fair  to  Mary  — 
would  it  not  be  fair  to  Mary  —  to  tell  her  the  truth  and 
have  done  with  it? 

Ordinarily,  it  wasn't  a  thing  to  be  done.     Chivalry 


EGAN  343 

forbade.  Chivalry  would  condemn  a  man  to  hold  his 
tongue,  and  two  or  ten  or  twenty  years  later  the  woman 
would  condemn  him  because,  forsooth,  he  had  held  it. 
She  would  ferret  out  the  secret,  sooner  or  later.  Then 
she  would  hate  him.  What  was  the  best  course  to  take  ? 
The  greatest  good  for  the  greatest  number?  Martha, 
Mary,  and  Egan.  Two  out  of  three.  Marriage  is  no 
fulfilment  of  an  obligation,  but  the  beginning  of  count- 
less millions  of  petty  obligations,  legal  and  moral,  per- 
sonal and  social,  daily,  unending.  Death  is  the  only 
fulfilment  —  and  even  then,  only  after  mutual  happi- 
ness. 

He  knew  that  he  had  no  longer  the  desire  to  marry 
her.  He  had  loved  her  —  but  if  he  had  taken  no  per- 
sonal credit  for  what  was  absolutely  beyond  the  free- 
dom of  his  will,  why  should  he  take  discredit  on  him- 
self, now,  for  what  he  was  equally  powerless  to  control.'* 
He  would  once  have  married  her,  and  she  hadn't  waited 
for  him  to  come  back.  Was  there  less  mutuality  in  a 
betrothal  than  in  a  marriage.''  Legally,  of  course  .  .  . 
but  except  for  the  wedding  ceremony,  law  comes  in  only 
to  sweep  up  the  shattered  fragments  of  love  .  .  . 

What  would  a  sincere  woman  do  if  she  found  that  she 
had  given  her  promise  too  soon,  and  to  the  wrong  man.'' 
What  had  Mary  herself  done.''  First,  to  Egan,  in  re- 
gard to  their  unoflScial  "  understanding  " ;  secondly  to 
Macklin,  when  the  engagement  had  been  more  formal. 
What  was  right  for  a  man  to  do.''  What  was  just? 
What  was  fair? 

The  stubble  before  him  was  littered  with  half-smoked 
cigarettes.  Egan  rose,  shivering.  Mechanically,  as 
he  set  out  for  home,  he  concentrated  upon  the  virtues, 


344  EGAN 

the  delicacies,  the  womanly  qualifications  of  Mary.  Un- 
wittingly, he  was  trying  to  persuade  himself  back  into 
that  era  when  he  had  loved  her.  He  was  the  same 
now, —  she  was  the  same  now, —  as  they  used  to  be. 
What  diabolic  influence  had  altered  him?  He  was  com- 
pelled to  blame  himself  without  a  cause.  Revile  him- 
self. But  he  said  fiercely  to  his  conscience  that  he 
would  hold  to  his  word,  and  let  somebody  else  usurp  the 
woman's  privilege,  if  he  liked. 

And  all  that  had  happened  was  that  Egan  had  lived 
a  little  longer,  and  all  there  was  to  blame  —  how  could 
he  ever  have  admitted  it,  even  if  he  had  known .''  —  was 
the  soul  of  the  world  and  the  flight  of  time. 

To  blame?  To  blame  a  man  for  the  unfathomable 
workings  of  the  universe?  For  the  ungovernable  twist- 
ings  and  turnings  of  the  human  mind? 

Suddenly  his  face  lighted,  and  Egan  smiled.  The 
peace  of  God  isn't  the  only  phenomenon  which  passes 
all  understanding.  His  whole  life  hung  on  the  decision 
he  had  made  today,  yet  suddenly,  out  of  the  gloom, 
Egan  smiled,  and  the  lines  momentarily  vanished  from 
his  forehead. 

Waupoos ! 

In  the  next  instant,  his  own  littleness  was  never 
clearer  to  him. 

He  had  hardly  set  foot  in  the  hallway  when  Stanley 
Adams  appeared  at  the  door  of  his  room.  Adams  had 
the  strained  expression  of  Sister  Anne,  but  a  slightly 
difi^erent  vocabulary.  "  Bronson !  Where  in  hell  have 
you  been  all  day?  We've  been  waiting  for  you  since 
two  o'clock." 


EGAN  345 

Egan  wearily  climbed  the  last  few  steps.  "  I'm 
pretty  tired,  Uncle  Stanley.     Can't  you  wait  awhile?  " 

The  journalist  took  his  arm.  "  No,  we  can't.  Bill 
Garrity's  here ! " 

The  greater  part  of  his  fatigue  dropped  away  from 
Egan. 

"Really.?" 

"  Yes,  and  he's  ready  to  talk.  He's  scared  stiff. 
Come  on  in.     You  can't  afford  to  be  tired  now." 

The  room,  as  Egan  entered  it,  was  dense  with  cigar 
smoke  hanging  in  close-packed,  mica-like  layers.  The 
Honourable  George  Perkins,  coatless,  was  tipped  back 
in  his  chair  against  the  wall,  a  ruminative  Daniel.  In 
the  middle  of  the  room  sat  Garrity,  middle-aged,  short, 
stocky,  shiny-headed,  painfully-dressed  in  a  seventy- 
dollar  suit  of  clothes  and  a  twenty-five-cent  necktie. 

The  judge,  maintaining  his  balance,  waved  a  welcom- 
ing hand. 

"  Hello,  boy  —  have  a  good  trip?  " 

"  Fine,  thank  you." 

"  You  know  Bill  Garrity,  of  course." 

"  Oh,  yes."     Egan  shook  hands  with  him. 

"  You've  growed  some,"  said  Garrity,  as  a  conven- 
tional form  of  address. 

"  I  have  —  a  little."  He  sat  down  on  the  edge  of 
Adams'  bed.     "What's  the  conference  about.?  " 

After  a  faintly  uncomfortable  pause,  Perkins  threw 
out  a  feeler.     "  Garrity's  a  friend  of  ours,  Bronson." 

"  I  was  sure  of  that,"  said  Egan  cordially. 

"  He  had  some  news  he  thought  we'd  like  to  know, 
so  he  brought  it  to  us.     To  you  especially." 

The   explanation  was  plausible  enough,  but   Egan 


346  EGAN 

could  see  at  a  glance  that  Garrity  was  nervous.  The 
former  superintendent  had  put  on  his  hat,  raking  it 
backwards  to  an  acute  angle;  and  his  feet  were  alter- 
nately tapping  the  floor.  His  linen  collar,  barely  three- 
quarters  of  an  inch  high,  but  already  five-eighths  of 
an  inch  too  much,  was  slowly  liquefying. 

"  That's  good,"  said  Egan,  pleasantly. 

Garrity  gazed  at  him  without  speaking, 

*'  Now  that  we're  all  here,"  suggested  the  Judge. 

Garrity  drew  a  tremendous  breath.  He  looked  from 
one  to  the  other  of  the  trio,  looked  at  the  floor.  *'  Am 
I  to  begin,  then,  your  Honour.'*  " 

"  Yes,  Garrity  —  go  ahead." 

"  So  I  will,  then."  He  focussed  intently  on  the  car- 
pet. "  Twenty  years  did  I  slave  and  labour  for  Old 
Man  Egan,  and  devil  a  chance  did  I  have,  and  no  one 
else,  neither,  for  the  Old  Man  he  carried  the  business 
under  his  hat,  like,  and  he  was  president  and  treasurer 
and  manager  and  superintendent  and  office-boy  and  all, 
no  matter  what  we  was  called  that  worked  under 
him." 

Egan,  fascinated,  bent  his  head  a  little  nearer,  for 
Garrity's  voice  was  very  low. 

*'  When  he  was  took  sick,  there  was  neither  head  nor 
tail  to  us,  not  knowin',  as  they  say  in  the  west  of  Ire- 
land, which  was  the  why  nor  for  ever  after.  One  day 
comes  a  letter  from  the  Citizens  Bank  which  I  and  the 
bookkeeper  opens,  and  we  find  it's  about  a  big  sum  of 
money  owed  that  we  know  nothin'  about,  so  I  and  the 
bookkeeper  goes  to  the  bank  and  sees  Mr.  Luke.  '  Gar- 
rity,' he  says,  *  this  don't  concern  you.  This  is  a  bit 
of  private  business  betwixt  this  bank  and  your  boss. 


EGAN  347 

Chase  yourself  out  of  here.'     *  Tell  me,  then,'  I  says, 

*  what  I'd  best  do  with  it,  for  the  Old  Man  is  sick,  and 
who  is  his  lawyer  I  dunno,  now  Judge  Perkins  and  him 
is  on  the  outs.'  '  Garrity,'  he  says,  '  you  go  to  Eddie 
Macklin.  He's  a  good  lawyer,  and  he'll  see  to  the  Old 
Man's  interest.'  So  I  go  to  Eddie,  and  I  go  back  to 
my  work." 

Adams  glanced  at  Egan.  "  Dovetails  nicely,  doesn't 
it.?  " 

"  Eddie  comes  to  me,  bye  an'  bye.  '  The  Old  Man 
has  hocked  some  of  his  own  stock,  and  cannot  buy  it  out 
of  the  bank,'  he  says,  '  and  the  bank  will  sell  it  to  the 
high  dollar  on  Saturday  week.  If  you've  ready  money, 
you  can  buy  cheap.  Give  me  what  you've  saved,  and 
I'll  get  it  for  you.'  I  had  always  wanted  stock.  I 
give  him  all  I  had ;  he  bought  the  stock  Saturday ;  the 
Old  Man  died  Tuesday.  Wednesday,  Eddie  comes  to 
me.  *  Bill,'  he  says,  *  we'll  make  you  president  of 
Egan's.'     '  Do  you  mean  it.'' '  I  says.     '  I  do,'  he  says. 

*  On  one  condition.  The  plant  must  cut  down  its 
costs.'     *  Cut  wages?  '  I  says.     *  Cut  costs,'  he  says." 

The  Honourable  George  silently  proffered  another 
cigar,  which  Garrity  proceeded  to  smoke  dry. 

"  '  Drive  the  men  harder,'  he  says,  '  and  save  payin' 
overtime.     Put     the     whole     crowd     on     piece-work.' 

*  There'll  be  big  trouble,'  I  says.  '  The  men  will  never 
stand    for   it.'     *  Then   we'll   replace    them,'   he    says. 

*  Replace  hell,'  I  says.  *  In  these  days.''  Bull!  Am  I 
to  watch  my  own  money  be  throwed  away-f"  '  '  That's 
all  right,'  he  says,  '  we  will  replace  them.  Kent  is  in 
Washington,  and  he'll  frame  a  deal  with  a  man  called 
Darragh  de  Lancey,  who  is  practically  the  director  of 


348  EGAN 

the  war  business.  This  de  Lancey  can  have  skilled 
workmen  furloughed  out  of  the  Army  and  sent  us  to 
complete  our  gover'ment  contracts.  They'll  be  glad  to 
get  furloughed  to  keep  out  of  the  trenches,  and  we'll  get 
all  the  men  we  want  at  our  own  terms.  Another  thing,' 
he  says,  *  if  we  are  to  get  soldiers,  we  must  show  a  clean 
slate.     Every  man  with  a  Dutch  name  must  go.' " 

Adams  coughed  gently  to  direct  Egan's  attention. 

"  There  was  trouble  on  the  piece-work,  and  after  a 
while,  the  boys  voted  to  strike.  *  Tell  them  to  strike 
and  be  damned,'  says  Eddie.  *  If  they  don't  come  back, 
Kent'll  help  us  from  Washington.'  So  the  boys  went 
out,  but  all  we  got  from  Washington  was  an  order  to 
behave.  *  Take  them  back,  then,'  says  Eddie,  *  and 
you  and  me  will  have  a  talk  with  Colonel  Kent,  who  is 
home  from  Washington.'  So  we  have  a  talk.  *  Are 
the  boys  dissatisfied.'"'  says  he.     *  They  are,'  says  I, 

*  imimously.'     '  We'd  best  clean  house,  then,'  he  says, 

*  before  the  Labour  Department  begins  on  us.  I  can 
arrange  matters.  Keep  up  the  discipline.  If  the  men 
is  dissatisfied,  leave  them  drift  ofi'.  We  will  have  sol- 
diers furloughed  and  save  money.'  He  shows  me  a 
clipping  from  a  newspaper  where  hundreds  of  men  is 
furloughed  for  the  cartridge  brass  industry,  and  I  am 
convinced.  The  men  is  dissatisfied,  and  they  drift. 
One  day  we're  with  half  the  machines  standin'  idle. 
Kent  and  Eddie  is  both  out  of  town.  I  send  a  telegram 
to  this  here  de  Lancey,  askin'  where  are  the  soldiers. 
Two  days  later,  we  are  notified  our  steel  delivery  is  to 
be  cut  two-thirds.  The  same  diay  I  hear  from  this  de 
Lancey.     He  says  he  never  heard  of  us  in  all  his  life. 


EGAN  849 

nor  Kent,  neither.  Eddie  is  home  over  Sunday.  '  What 
you've  done,'  he  says  to  me,  '  is  to  gum  the  whole  game. 
You'd  better  have  kept  your  face  shut.  You've  put 
Kent  in  a  hell  of  a  hole.  You're  lucky  if  you  ain't  in- 
dicted. You  blew  the  secret  of  what  we  aimed  to  do 
by  the  furlough,  and  that's  why  they  stopped  your 
steel.'  '  What  do  I  do  now?  '  I  says.  *  Close  down.'' ' 
*  Close  down  is  right,'  he  says,  *  and  keep  your  face 
closed  down  while  I  get  in  touch  with  Kent  and  fix  this 
up.  We'll  be  runnin'  full  blast  again  in  two  weeks.' 
So  we  close  down,  but  we  wasn't  runnin'  again  in  two 
weeks,  nor  four.  Eddie  comes  to  me.  *  The  city  will 
take  back  its  land,'  he  says,  *  and  The  Egan  Company 
has  bust.  You  did  it,'  he  says.  *  Your  damn  fool 
telegram  did  it.  You  killed  the  best  business  in  Plain- 
field.  I  know  you  lose  you  ten  thou,'  he  says,  '  but 
other  folks  lose  fifty  to  your  one.  If  you  peep,'  he 
says,  *  you'll  likely  land  in  the  cooler.  Kent  is  crazy. 
Go  get  a  job  and  forget  it,  and  some  day  when  Kent  is 
cooled  down  I'll  see  you  get  your  money  back  provided 
you  keep  your  face  shut.'  So  I  get  a  job,  but  I  don't 
forget  it.  Then  there  is  trouble  in  politics  in  this  town, 
and  both  ends  is  against  the  middle,  and  I  am  part  of 
the  middle.  Kent  has  sent  for  me,  and  Eddie  has  sent 
for  me,  and  I  see  where  I  am  the  goat.  But  goat  or  no 
goat,  I'll  stand  by  an  Egan  until  the  last  trump.  I  am 
convinced  since  yesterday  morning  there  was  a  dirty 
trick  there  at  the  plant.  So  I  come  to  you,  and  here 
I  am." 

He  finished  wearily,  and  continued  to  stare  at  the 
carpet. 


S50  EGAN 

"  I  suppose  you'd  be  willing  to  sign  an  affidavit, 
wouldn't  you  ?  "  asked  Adams,  breaking  the  silence. 

Garrity  lifted  his  head.  He  answered  Adams,  but 
he  looked  at  Egan. 

"  I'll  sign  anything  the  Judge  says.  He's  my  law- 
yer." 

**  We'U  draw  it  up  tonight." 

"  Not  tonight,"  said  Garrity.  "  I  got  to  go  to 
Cleveland.  My  sister's  sick.  I'll  be  back  tomorrow 
afternoon." 

"  Tomorrow  night,  then."  The  Judge  sighed  with 
relief.  "  Well,  I  guess  that  clears  the  path  for  us,  gen- 
tlemen." 

He  smiled  broadly,  but  Egan,  confronted  at  last  by 
the  certainty  that  his  father's  old  friend  and  Mary's 
father  had  planned  his  strategy  of  destruction,  was  so 
infinitely  depressed  that  nothing  could  have  wrung  an 
answering  smile  from  him.  Not  even  Waupoos.  Not 
even  what  Garrity,  on  his  feet  for  departure,  was  bab- 
bling in  loyal  eulogy  of  Old  Man  Egan. 


xxvin 

AT  the  usual  hour  on  Monday,  Egan  was  in  his 
office,  and  he  remained  there  throughout  the 
greater  part  of  the  day,  although  his  mind  was 
absent  without  leave.  He  was  so  detached  from  his 
duties  that  the  announcement  of  Hoyt  as  general  man- 
ager and  himself  as  assistant  could  hardly  wring  a  word 
of  satisfaction  from  him ;  nor  could  the  choice  of  a  new 
advertising  executive  stir  him  to  congratulation.  At 
four  o'clock,  sedulously  avoiding  Adams,  he  slipped  out 
and  went  to  the  Metropolitan  Club  for  private  medita- 
tion, and  to  perform  a  friendly  service  for  a  friend.  At 
five  o'clock,  a  boy  brought  the  message  to  the  writing 
room  that  a  caller  was  waiting  for  Egan  downstairs, 
and  Egan,  delaying  only  long  enough  to  seal  an  en- 
velope, went  down.  The  caller  was  a  young  man  in  a 
strikingly  checked  suit  and  vivid  haberdashery,  set  off 
by  numerous  articles  of  diamond  jewelry. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Feinberg !  "  said  Egan. 

The  young  man  approached  him  nervously. 
"  Howdy-do,  Mr.  Egan.  Long  time  since  we  met  each 
other,  ain't  it?  "  He  attached  himself  by  thumb  and 
forefinger  to  the  lapel  of  Egan's  coat.  "  You  know 
something?  I  got  a  friend  of  mine  wants  to  do  some 
business  with  you.  I  got  a  oitermobile  outside  here. 
Ninety  cents  a  hour.  They  told  me  at  your  office  you'd 
be  here  or  home,  and  you  wasn't  home,  so  I  come  here. 
Just  a  couple  minutes.     It's  no  fake  —  honest." 

851 


352  EGAN 

Egan  tried  to  detach  himself,  but  the  jewelry  sales- 
man wouldn't  let  go. 

"Who  is  it?" 

"  E  —  M,"  said  Mr.  Feinberg,  mysteriously. 

"  Oh !  What's  the  idea  of  sending  you  here .''  Why 
didn't  he  come  himself.''  " 

"  He  couldn't.  .  .  .  Say,  this  is  an  elegant  clubhouse, 
ain't  it?" 

"  Well,  why  didn't  he  telephone?  " 

"  He  couldn't  do  that,  either." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Well,  he  couldn't.  I  tell  you,  it's  no  fake,  Mr. 
Egan.     I'm  payin'  ninety  cents  by  the  hour.     He  — " 

"  You  can  tell  him  for  me,"  said  Egan  shortly,  "  that 
if  he  wants  to  see  me,  he  can  come  here."  He  succeeded 
in  freeing  his  lapel,  but  the  jewelry  salesman  promptly 
caught  him  by  the  sleeve. 

"  I  ask  you  please,  Mr.  Egan,  be  a  good  sport.  I 
wouldn't  come  here  only  if  it  wasn't  important.  It 
won't  take  you  hardly  any  time  at  all.  It's  no  fake. 
Honest.  It's  about  .  .  .  you  know."  He  danced 
back  impressively.  "  He  said  I  should  tell  you  it's  to 
.  .  .  you  know." 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  Egan  impatiently.  "  And  I 
don't  think  I  care  a  whale  of  a  lot,  either," 

**  Well,  it's  no  fake.  I  give  you  my  word  of  hon- 
our, Mr.  Egan.  It's  worth  going  for.  Please  hurry 
up,  Mr.  Egan." 

Egan  wavered.     "  And  he  can't  come  here  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  If  he  could,  he  would  have.  Honest. 
It's  just  like  I  said.     I  should  bring  you  back  just  as 


EGAN  363 

soon  as  I  could.  I  got  a  car  outside  here  now,  and  it 
won't  cost  you  a  cent." 

"  Well  — " 

Feinberg  stopped  him  as  he  turned.  "  Please  don't 
tell  anybody,  Mr.  Egan.  Please.  You  shouldn't 
worry.  Honest.  Don't  say  a  word.  It's  important 
you  shouldn't." 

Egan  stopped  wavering. 

"  All  right,"  he  said.  "  I'll  be  with  you  as  soon  as  I 
can  get  my  coat  and  hat,  and  leave  something  at  the 
office." 

At  the  hall  desk,  he  wrote  the  superscription  "  Board 
of  Governors  "  on  the  envelope  in  his  hand.  Within, 
was  the  petition  which  would  release  Adams'  suspen- 
sion, and  place  him  on  active  membership  in  the  club 
once  more. 

The  door  of  the  small  house  was  opened  by  an  acidu- 
lous young  woman  with  an  oil  lamp  in  her  hand.  At 
sight  of  Feinberg,  she  stood  aside  to  permit  the  pair  to 
enter. 

"  Go  right  in  the  poller,"  she  said  unemotionally. 
Egan,  entering  the  poller,  was  immediately  alone. 
Feinberg  had  remained  in  the  hall,  and  closed  the  door. 

For  an  instant,  Egan  was  expectant  of  surprise,  but 
he  dismissed  the  thought  of  ambush  with  a  contemptu- 
ous shrug  of  his  shoulders,  and  gave  himself  to  a  critical 
inspection  of  the  room.  It  was  a  very  low-ceiled  apart- 
ment, lighted  by  a  large  kerosene  lamp,  and  luxuriously 
furnished  in  red  plush.  The  carpet  was  Brussels,  with 
cabbage-sized  roses  on  it.     Egan's  eyes  were  soothed  by 


864  .         EGAN 

antimacassars,  wax-fruit  displays  underneath  glass 
bells,  crayon  enlargements  surrounded  by  elaborate  gUt 
frames,  and  a  glorious  array  of  prisms  dangling  from 
the  gasolier  which  sprouted  downward  from  a  plaster 
rosette  in  the  ceiling.  Distinctly  not  a  room  in  which 
melodrama  would  feel  at  home. 
,The  door  opened  again,  and  Egan  turned  back. 

«  Hello,  Eddie." 

His  ancient  enemy  didn't  oflPer  to  shake  hands.  "  I'm 
glad  you  came,  Bronson." 

"  Always  happy  to  oblige." 

"  You're  mighty  decent  to  come,  anyway." 

Egan  felt  it  himself. 

"  Whose  place  is  this .''  " 

"  My  mother's.  Let's  sit  down.  .  .  .  Smoke  a  cig- 
arette.?" 

"  I  have  some,  thanks." 

"Matches?" 

"  Much  obliged." 

Macklin  sat  down,  his  feet  profaning  one  of  the  roses 
which,  except  on  the  occasion  of  two  funerals  and  a  few 
ministerial  visitations,  had  never  seen  the  full  light  of 
day  since  it  was  transplanted  there.  His  look  to  Egan 
was  unusually  direct. 

**  You've  won,  of  course  you  know,"  he  said  in  an  un- 
dertone. 

Egan's  heart  thumped.  — "  Won .''  How  do  you 
mean  .'*  " 

Macklin  acted  as  though  his  nerves  had  been  crushed. 

**  The  first  night  you  were  back  ?  Remember  you 
said  there  wasn't  room  for  both  of  us  in  the  same  town? 
Well,  I'm  leaving." 


EGAN        ^  355 

His  despondency  was  so  profound  that  Egan,  even  at 
this  long-wished-for  instant  of  complete  success,  could 
almost  be  sorry  for  him  —  almost. 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "     His  tone  was  a  challenge. 

"  I  hope  it  is."  Macklin's  hands  twitched  uncon- 
trollably. "  You  can  make  it  sure  if  you  want  to.  I 
thought  under  all  the  circumstances  you  might  want 
to." 

"How?" 

Macklin  blew  a  volley  of  smoke  squarely  into  the  out- 
raged features  of  a  lugubrious  hypocrite  in  a  crayon 
enlargement.     "  Help  me  get  away.'* 

Egan  laughed.  "  Isn't  that  rather  a  large  order? 
Under  all  the  circumstances?  " 

"  It  is,  and  it  isn't.     I  want  to  get  to  St.  Louis." 

"Why  St.  Louis?" 

"  That's  my  business,  Bronson."  ' 

"  Well,  the  railroad's  still  running." 

"  But  I  can't  take  it." 

"  You  can't  expect  me  to  help  you  with  — " 

"  I  don't  suppose  I  ought  to  expect  you  to  lift  a 
finger.     Only  I  do.     I'm  banking  on  it." 

Egan  inspected  him  minutely.  "  I'd  like  to  hear  a 
little  more  about  it,  Eddie."  His  sense  of  triumph  was 
atrophied.  The  victory  was  too  hollow.  And  it  was 
highly  doubtful  if  it  would  be  to  Egan's  interest  to  let 
Macklin  set  foot  outside  the  state. 

Macklin  was  quivering  as  from  an  attack  of  palsy. 
"  All  I  want  to  do  is  to  begin  over  again.  Start  with  a 
clean  slate.  I've  got  a  lawyer  friend  in  St.  Louis  who'll 
give  me  a  job.  .  .  .  What  I  want  to  do  is  to  get  out  of 
here  fast,  and  not  have  too  many  people  know  I'm 


866  EGAN 

getting  out.  After  two  days,  I  don't  care.  Nobody's 
going  to  chase  me,  except  maybe  you.  I  thought  we 
might  have  an  understanding  for  good  and  all.  After 
that,  you  can  do  as  you  like.  But  I  want  to  get  out  of 
Plainfield  before  anybody  knows  I'm  gone,  or  where  I'm 
going.  I  sent  for  you  so  I  could  put  all  the  cards  on 
the  table,  and  find  out  just  what  your  ideas  are."  He 
flipped  the  butt  of  his  cigarette  into  a  hand-painted 
china  plate  on  the  table,  and  got  to  his  feet.  "  Bron- 
son,  it's  a  rotten  crooked  world.  God  knows  I've  tried 
to  play  the  game  square,  but  it  don't  work.  Unless 
you've  got  money,  you  can't  afford  to  be  square.  I'll 
tell  you  why  I'm  going  out  —  because  I  was  too  damned 
honest.  I'm  in  wrong  everywhere."  He  sat  down 
again.  "  Oh,  I  know  you've  been  chumming  with  Hen- 
derson, and  your  pal  Adams  has  been  pumping  Bill 
Garri^y  —  but  the  only  man  who  can  fill  in  the  chinks 
is  me.     I'm  going  to  do  it.  .  .  .  Can  we  bargain.''  " 

Egan,  triumphant,  was  still  judicial.     *'  I  don't  see 

,  yet  why  you  need  me.     Why  don't  you  just  go,  if  you 

want  to  ?     And  if  you  think  you  can  get  away  with  it." 

Macldin  regarded  him  sharply.  *'  I'm  going  to  put 
my  head*  in  the  noose.  You'd  find  it  out  anyway.  I 
tell  you,  I'm  banking  on  you.  And  you've  always  mis- 
judged me.  I  don't  want  you  to  this  time.  I'd  rather 
have  you  believe  me  than  any  other  man  I  ever  knew, 
and  that's  no  buU,  either.  If  you  won't  give  me  a 
lift  ..."  He  fingered  his  throat  as  though  it  hurt 
him.  "  Bronson,  it  was  Kent  and  his  crowd  made  me 
city  counsel.  I  was  straight  as  a  string,  by  God,  until 
they  began  to  get  after  me  for  favours.  One  day  Kent 
asked  me  for  some  legal  advice  —  quite  on  the  side  —  on 


EGAN  S57 

some  little  matter  of  his,  and  after  I'd  given  it  to  him, 
he  wanted  to  know  the  fee.  *  Ten  dollars,'  I  said.  He 
gave  me  a  bill  —  it  was  in  his  office,  and  his  secretary 
was  there.  I  put  it  in  my  pocket.  Next  time  I  had  to 
buy  cigarettes,  I  hauled  out  this  bill.  It  was  a  hundred 
dollar  bill.  I  went  back  to  Kent.  *  That's  O.  K.,'  he 
said  to  me.  *  That's  O.  K.  Call  it  a  retainer  —  you 
can  do  more  for  me,  on  the  side,  from  time  to  time.'  I 
needed  that  money,  Bronson.  I've  got  a  mother  and 
sister.  .  .  .  Like  a  damned  fool,  I  deposited  it.  I  bank 
in  the  Citizens  Trust.  In  the  course  of  six  months  he 
paid  me  eleven  hundred  dollars.  Luke  paid  me  five 
hundred.  I  was  giving  them  some  advice,  of  course,  but 
it  wasn't  worth  that.  .  .  .  Still,  I  couldn't  see  any  harm 
in  it." 

"  Couldn't  you,  Eddie .''  "  Egan  marvelled  at  his 
own  forbearance. 

Macklin  shook  his  head.  "  Then  Kent  wanted  the 
city  to  buy  the  Light  and  Power  Company,  and  my 
original  opinion  was  that  the  city  couldn't  do  it  legally. 
Kent  sent  for  me."  He  had  to  clear  his  throat  before 
he  could  continue,  "  Marked  bills  ...  all  of  'em. 
The  teller'd  made  memos  of  them,  and  had  *em  in  an 
envelope.  Damn  it,  Bronson,  everybody  knew  I  never'd 
charged  more'n  ten  dollars  for  two  minutes'  advice  when 
I  had  a  private  practice,  and  a  city  attorney  hasn't  any 
right  to  take  money  on  the  outside  anyhow.  .  .  .  He 
sort  of  had  me." 

"  You  were  a  fool,  Eddie." 

"  Am  I  the  only  One  ?  ...  So  the  city  bought  the 
Light  and  Power  Company  from  Kent  at  double  its 
value,  and  he  gave  me  a  thousand  dollars  and  promised 


868  EGAN    • 

to  make  me  Mayor.  Then  your  father  got  sick,  and 
that  note  deal  came  up.  Kent  got  ready  to  have  the 
bank  jump  on  the  note  itself,  and  pick  up  some  loose 
change  from  the  Old  Man  when  he  had  to  buy  his  stock 
back.  Then  Kent  got  the  idea  that  he'd  make  more 
money  if  the  Egan  Company  was  out  of  it  entirely.  If 
he  had  a  local  monopoly,  without  even  the  Egan  name 
in  the  way.  He  couldn't  figure  out  how  to  force  a  con- 
solidation without  showing  his  teeth,  and  he  didn't  dare 
to  do  that.  So  he  told  me  to  advise  all  my  old  clients 
to  chip  in  and  buy  that  stock.  And  he  got  a  lot  of 
bolshevik  talk  circulated  to  keep  the  price  down.  The 
Times  helped  him  out.  I  kicked  like  a  steer,  but  he 
swore  that  one  way  or  another  he'd  make  up  any  losses 
the  buyers  had  to  take.  He  was  gunning  for  the  Com- 
pany only. 

"  It  happened  that  Henderson  had  been  over  here  nos- 
ing around,  and  I'd  met  him,  and  I  knew  he  was  straight 
as  a  string,  and  no  friend  of  Kent's.  I  tried  to  play 
fair.  It  wasn't  safe  to  write  or  wire  or  telephone  Hen- 
derson on  any  deal  to  put  the  skids  under  Kent  —  and 
then  in  pops  this  fellow  Feinberg.  I  boarded  in  his 
house  when  I  was  in  law  school  in  Cleveland.  I  knew 
his  cousin  did  hack  work  for  Henderson, —  it  was  his 
cousin  who  got  me  to  board  with  him  in  the  first  place ; 
we  were  in  the  same  class  at  law  school  —  Feinberg's 
about  the  only  one  that's  sticking  to  me  now,  so  I  sent 
a  tip  over  that  way.  I  wanted  Henderson  to  bid  for 
that  stock,  and  buy  it,  and  spike  Kent's  game,  and  pro- 
tect you  fellows.  Henderson  would  have  been  decent 
about  it,  and  sold  it  back  to  you.  And  he  wouldn't 
give  me  away  to  Kent.     He  came  over,  but  ,he  wouldn't 


EGAN  359 

touch  it.  Thought  it  was  a  skunk  trick  —  and  thought 
I  was  a  skunk  to  suggest  it.  I  was  going  to  charge  him 
a  legitimate  commission,  if  he  bought  —  and  that  would 
have  let  me  square  up  with  the  world,  and  get  clear. 
He  thought  I  was  crooked  to  suggest  the  commission. 
Of  course  I  couldn't  tell  him  how  I  was  fixed.  .  .  .  Kent 
gave  me  some  big  money  to  buy  stock  with  myself,  so  it 
would  look  better.  We  put  Garrity  in,  and  let  him 
hang  himself.  Kent  would  have  had  a  consolidation  out 
of  it,  but  he  was  scared  of  appearances,  so  we  just  killed 
it*  I  guess  Garrity's  told  you  how.  The  company'U 
liquidate  so  that  Garrity  and  Mrs.  McCain  and  the 
other  people'll  get  their  money  back.  I  had  to  scare 
'em  all  so  they  wouldn't  tell  they  gave  us  their  proxies. 
Kent  wanted  it  thought  they  voted  themselves.  Kent 
made  me  hustle  along  the  cancellation  of  your  lease,  and 
get  it  for  him.  Kent  engineered  the  whole  work.  The 
other  directors  are  just  as  innocent  as  you  are.  They 
knew  Kent  was  interested,  and  a  clever  organizer,  so 
they  let  him  run  things.  They  think  it  had  to  happen. 
It  only  cost  Kent  $30,000  all  told  to  wreck  your  com- 
pany for  you.  And  then  you  came  home.  .  .  .  Bron- 
son,  when  I  said  I  wanted  to  be  friends  with  you,  I 
meant  it.  When  I  said  I  could  help  you,  I  meant  it.  I 
was  right  on  the  edge  of  playing  the  game  with  you  then 
.  .  .  and  you  couldn't  think  of  anything  but  the  fight 
we  had  fifteen  years  ago.  Well,  that's  over  with.  I 
stuck  to  Kent  a  while  longer.  How  the  devil  could  I 
get  away?  If  I'd  come  to  you  then,  you  wouldn't  have 
believed  me  under  oath.  Then  you  spilled  the  beans 
about  meeting  Henderson  on  the  train,  and  Kent  tum- 
bled.    Kent  knows  I'm  no  good  to  him  now.     He's 


360  EGAN 

through  with  me.  I'm  too  honest  for  him.  And  the 
crowd's  against  him  now,  so  they're  against  me,  too. 
There's  nothing  ahead  here.  I've  got  to  get  out.  I 
need  you  to  help  me.  I  believe  you  will,  too.  I'll 
show  you  why." 

He  went  out  of  the  room  a  moment,  and  returned. 
There  was  some  one  with  him.     It  was  Mary  Kent. 

She  came  slowly  towards  Egan,  stopped  halfway. 
She  was  pale  and  nervous ;  it  was  obviously  hard  for  her 
to  speak. 

"  We're  going  away,  Bronson,"  she  said,  barely  above 
a  whispeV. 

Egan  looked  at  her,  and  looked  at  Macklin.  His 
reason  refused,  temporarily,  to  accept  the  fact.  He 
had  been  told  that  their  engagement  was  broken.  And 
it  was  contrary  to  his  opinion  of  Mary  that  she  should 
cleave  to  a  broken  reed  like  Macklin.  Voluntary  ad- 
versity was  a  sacrifice  he  had  never  dreamed  her  capable 
of  making.  The  release  of  his  own  individuality  was  his 
second  thought,  not  his  first. 

"You're  — what?" 

Her  lower  lip  was  trembling  pitiably. 

"  I'm  going  away  —  with  Eddie." 

He  could  only  look  at  her,  mute.  Macklin  volun- 
teered an  explanation. 

"  Her  father  announced  our  engagement  was  broken, 
but  it  isn't  so.  It  wasn't  any  of  our  doing.  It  was 
Mr.  Kent's.     He  made  her." 

Something  sprang  up  in  Egan's  throat,  and  made  it 
arid.  Her  father  had  adopted  the  mediaeval  Florentine 
procedure  of  using  the  stiletto  on  his  friends  from  be- 


EGAN  361 

hind,  and  the  mere  circumstance  of  Mary's  relationship 
to  her  father  was  enough  to  damn  her,  if  it  hadn't  been 
that  she  was  turning  from  him,  too. 

"  So  —  you're  going  just  the  same?  " 

She  nodded  faintly.  "  Yes,  Bronson."  She  edged 
towards  Macklin,  and  he  put  his  arm  defiantly  around 
her.  Egan,  watching  them,  was  all  at  once  visited  by  a 
new  species  of  commiseration  for  Mary,  and  a  new  sort 
of  pity  for  Macklin.  Their  mutual  dependence,  and 
their  mutual  faith  at  this  crisis  touched  him  deeply. 
Without  logic,  he  knew  that  he  should  have  to  lend  them 
aid.  He  knew  that  he  should  have  to  believe  the  nar- 
rative as  Macklin  had  told  it.  And  he  knew  that  his 
heart  wouldn't  permit  him  to  open  fire  on  Mr.  Kent 
while  Mary  was  at  home. 

"  Have  you  —  left  your  home  for  good,  Mary?  " 

Again  she  nodded.  "  I  had  to.  It  was  awful,  Bron- 
son. We're  going  away  and  be  married.  I'm  staying 
here  until  — " 

"  Until  we  decide  what  to  do,"  said  Macklin,  his 
shoulders  squared  in  protection.  "  I'm  hoping  you'll 
help  us  get  off  tonight  or  tomorrow  morning." 

Egan  reverted  to  the  obvious.  "  You  could  take  a 
train,  couldn't  you  ?  " 

"  No."  Macklin  shook  his  head.  "  That's  exactly 
what  we  can't  do.  Not  even  if  you  don't  try  to  stop 
me.     They'll  be  looking  for  both  of  us,  now." 

"  Don't  they  know  where  Mary  is  ?  " 

«  No." 

"  I  ...  I  just  went,"  said  Mary,  helplessly.  "  They 
don't  know  where  I  am,  but  they  know  I've  gone." 

"  They    know   it   by    now,"    said   Macklin.      "  And 


Sest  EGAN 

Kentll  have  people  at  the  station  —  and  notify  the 
troQej  companj  to  put  the  mtemrban  conductors  on 
gnard.  There  .  .  .  there  was  a  prettj  hot  quarrel  be- 
fore she  left,  Bronson.     About  me  —  and  us." 

''Oh."  Egan  began  ahstractedlj  to  pace  up  and 
down  the  small  room.  "  So  you  think  I  ou^t  to  he^ 
joo  get  away,  do  you?  " 

Macklin  denied  the  obligation.  ''Far  from  it. 
There's  ploDity  of  reasons  why  you  shouldn't.  That's 
admitted.  IVe  said  aQ  that  already.  There  isn't  any 
*  ou^f  about  it.  Only  IVe  told  yon  the  truth.  And 
I  thought  you're  a  big  eaou^  man.  .  .  ."  His  Toioe 
trailed  into  silence. 

£gan  continued  to  pace  the  floor,  but  his  thoughts 
were  -viridly  disconnected.  Presently,  while  he  was  yet 
imprepared  to  express  himsdf ,  Mary  detached  hersdf 
from  Macklin,  and  came  to  meet  him.  He  paused,  and 
gazed  down  at  her,  negatively  ccmscious  now  that  the 
last  vestige  of  Ins  schoolboy  emotion  for  her  had  left 
him.  He  was  still  very  fond  of  her,  and  very  sorry  for 
her,  but  that  was  all.  He  was  sorry  for  her  on  Mack- 
fin's  account  as  well  as  on  his  own.  He  would  do  what- 
ever he  could  to  help  her.  But  to  help  Macklin?  Even 
if  the  pairing  of  these  two  meant  a  permanent  reprieve 
for  himself? 

**  Bronson ! "  she  said. 

"  WeU?  " 

**  I  don't  deserve  it,  Bronson  —  any  of  it." 

**  What  dont  you  deserve,  Mary?  " 

**  What  you  think  about  me,  and  what  Father  thinks 
and — and  everything."  Tears  fiDed  her  eyes.  *^I 
can't  help  it  —  and  everybody's  so  unfair  to  Eddie. 


EGAN  S6d 

We'd  better  just  go  away.  Nobody  wants  us  around 
here.  Won't  jou  please  help  us.'  Doesn't  our  old 
friendship  mean  anything?  Can't  we  count  on  you 
now  —  the  only  time  we've  ever  had  to  count  on  you? 
Because  there's  nobody  else  but  you  — " 

As  she  put  out  her  hand  to  touch  his  arm,  £gan 
stepped  back  to  the  window.  "  Wait  a  minute,"  he 
said. 

When  he  turned,  they  were  just  as  he  had  left  them; 
Mary,  pathetic  by  the  centre  table,  Eddie  stolid  at  the 
mantel.  "  When  could  you  be  ready  tomorrow  morn- 
ing? "  he  demanded.     "  Six  o'clock?  " 

A  spot  of  colour  appeared  in  Mary's  cheeks.  Mack- 
lin,  on  the  contrary,  grew  white.  "  Yes,"  he  said. 
«  Yes." 

«  Be  at  the  field  by  six  o'clock,"  said  Egan.  "  You 
can  have  the  *  Honeymoon  Express  '  from  here  to  Boyd 
Junction,  Illinois.  That's  four  hundred  miles.  With 
stops  for  gas,  youll  get  there  by  noon.  That's  the 
best  I  can  do  for  you.  You  won't  have  room  for 
more  than  three  suit-cases.  I'd  bring  something  to  eat, 
too.  Your  pilot  won't  a:sk  any  questions,  and  you  don't 
have  to  pay  any  attention  to  him.  I  don't  know  when 
you  can  catch  a  train  from  the  Junction  to  St.  Louis, 
but  you  can  fin^  out,  and  the  pilot'll  arrange  so  that 
you  don't  have  to  wait  too  long  there.  His  name'll  be 
Utley.  U-t-1-e-y.  Will  that  do  .=^  It  isn't  much  of  any 
risk.  It's  aU  I  can  think  of."  He  tried  to  ease  the 
tension.  "  Mary  always  said  she  wanted  one  flight  just 
for  the  experience." 

"Bronson!"  said  Macklin,  hushed.  "That's  ex- 
actly what  we'd  hoped  you'd  do." 


864  EGAN 

Egan  reached  for  his  hat.  **  I  won't  see  you  again, 
then.  Everything  will  be  ready  for  you.  Just  go  out 
to  the  field  and  say  you're  the  passengers  that  I  ar- 
ranged for."  He  offered  his  hand  to  Mary.  "  Good- 
bye, and  good  luck." 

She  looked  inquiringly  back  at  Macklin.  "  Go 
ahead,"  he  said.  > 

So  that  it  came  to  pass  precisely  as  Egan  had  prom- 
ised more  than  six  months  ago.  He  hadn't  laid  a  finger 
on  Mary  Kent  until  she  took  the  initiative  herself.  But 
he  hadn't  imagined,  then,  that  he  should  be  quite  so  im- 
passive when  she  kissed  him. 

Macklin  ushered  him  to  the  outer  door.  "  I  kno^  it 
isn't  for  me  that  you're  doing  this,"  he  said,  awk- 
wardly. **  Well  —  I  don't  believe  I'll  ever  want  to  see 
Plainfield  again,  but  if  I  can  ever  do  anything  for  you. 
.  .  .  It's  sort  of  ticldish  business,  of  course  —  with 
Mary's  father  —  but  if  it's  a  case  of  devil  take  the  hind- 
most —  One  last  word.  I  didn't  spike  your  guns  for 
the  Fair  last  fall.  That  is,  not  wiUingly.  Kent  was 
organizing  Air  Traffic,  and  made  me.  Do  you  think  I 
won't  come  back  to  get  a  crack  at  him  ?  Try  me  — 
that's  all.  .  .  .  Won't  you  shake  hands  ?  " 

With  hardly  noticeable  hesitation,  Egan  did. 

On  Tuesday  afternoon,  he  had  a  wire  from  them  at 
Boyd  Junction,  and  he  was  doubly  relieved;  once  be- 
cause they  were  safe,  once  because  they  were  gone.  But 
his  relief  was  instantaneously  removed  from  him  when, 
shortly  before  the  closing  hour,  Stanley  Adams  came  in 
to  his  office  very  quietly,  and  closed  the  door. 

"  We're  out  of  luck,  Bronson,"  he  said.     "  I  came 


EGAN  365 

over  to  tell  you  that  the  Cleveland  express  was  wrecked 
in  an  open-switch  accident  at  half  past  three." 

Egan's  brain  leaped  at  the  conclusion.     "  Garrity.?  '* 

"  Killed,"  said  Adams.  "  And  there  goes  our  star 
witness,  and  most  of  our  case  against  Kent." 

His  expression  was  so  extraordinary  that  Egan  held 
back  some  of  his  dismay.  There  was  an  unbelieving 
sort  of  ecstasy  behind  Adams'  seriousness  —  a  dazed 
recognition  of  something  almost  too  good  to  be  true. 
Of  a  surety,  this  mood  had  nothing  to  do  with  Garrity, 
and  the  case  against  Kent.  "  Uncle  Stanley  1  What's 
the  .   .  .  say  it,  man,  say  it ! " 

Adams  was  blinking  rapidly. 

"  There  was  a  theatrical  troupe  on  the  same  train, 
Bronson  .  .  ."  He  came  close  to  Egan,  and  gripped 
him  by  the  shoulder.  "  It's  a  funny  thing,  boy  .  .  . 
it's  funny  as  hell.  .  .  .  You  know,  I  almost  wish  I 
could  go  to  her  funeral  —  but  I  just  can't!  " 

Egan  caught  his  breath.  "  Why  —  why.  Uncle 
Stanley !  I'm  hanged  if  I  don't  beKeve  I  know  exactly 
how  you  feel !  " 


XXIX 

THERE  was  a  solemn  week  during  which  Egan 
immured  himself  within  the  solitude  of  his  own 
reflections.  Every  instinct  impelled  him  to 
hurry  to  Dayton,  but  he  relentlessly  submerged  them 
in  cold  restraint.  He  thought  it  would  hardly  be  de- 
cent of  him.  It  would  be  too  precipitous  —  too  patent. 
And  besides,  he  owed  something  to  the  memory  of  the 
girl  who  had  taught  him,  by  her  very  constancy  to 
Macklin,  how  much  he  had  yet  to  learn  about  women, 
and  about  himself.  So  that  he  struggled  to  give  value 
for  value  to  the  company  which  employed  him,  while,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  worth,  during  that  week, 
hardly  the  rental  of  the  space  he  occupied.  But  it  was 
a  tribute  to  his  altered  self  that  he  recognized  it. 

Adams,  who  was  floating  through  his  days  with  the 
face  of  a  reprieved  convict  and  the  title  of  advertising 
manager,  wouldn't  permit  him  to  lose  sight  of  his  less 
tender  opportunity. 

"  The  Judge  says  that  without  Garrity  we  probably 
can't  even  get  Kent  indicted,"  he  protested.  "  Gar- 
rity's  gone  for  good,  but  if  Eddie  won't  come  back  of 
his  own  accord,  we  could  have  him  extradited  like  roll- 
ing off'  a  log.  Conspiracy.''  When  he  was  city  coun- 
sel.? We'd  have  Kent  breaking  rock  on  the  streets  un- 
til his  ransom  does  the  general  coff'ers  fill.  Sure 
Eddie'd  get  his,  too.  What  do  we  care  what  happens 
to  Eddie.?  " 

"  I  care  a  good  deal,"  said  Egan  soberly. 

366 


EGAN  367 

"  Not  that  I  think  he  was  anything  more  than  a  cats- 
paw,  but  — " 

"  But  I  don't  care  to  press  it,  Uncle  Stanley." 

Adams  looked  wise.  "  Still,  you  know  if  you  help 
conceal  a  conspiracy  — " 

"  I'm  the  only  one  that's  hurt,  Uncle  Stanley.  The 
other  people  are  going  to  get  their  money  back.  And 
the  question  of  the  Light  and  Power  Company  isn't 
for  us  to  handle  —  it's  up  to  the  city." 

Adams  was  disconsolate.  "And  let  Kent  go?"  he 
mourned.  "  Let  him  keep  on  swaggering  around  town 
as  though  he  owned  the  mortgage  on  it?  " 

"  He  won't  be  happy  about  it,"  said  Egan  grimly. 
"  He'll  know  /  know.     The  Judge  is  going  to  tell  him." 

Indeed,  towards  the  end  of  the  week,  Mr.  Kent,  who 
had  ill-advisedly  put  his  faith  in  sheer  luck,  and  de- 
pended on  it  for  immunity,  knew  all  about  It.  The 
Honourable  George  Perkins  waited  ceremoniously  upon 
him,  and  Mr.  Kent,  striving  to  retain  his  military  bear- 
ing, and  his  attitude  of  command,  found  that  he  was  in 
process  of  being  dominated  by  a  carelessly-dressed  old 
man  who  had  nothing  but  the  consciousness  of  justice 
back  of  him. 

"  I  think,"  said  the  Honourable  George,  not  the  least 
unbending,  "  you  know  what  I've  come  for." 

Mr.  Kent,  behind  the  rampart  of  his  mahogany  desk, 
affected  genial  innocence. 

"How  should  I?" 

The  Honourable  George  could  put  lightning  into  his 
eyes  when  he  had  the  inclination,  and  he  had  it  now. 
*'  It's  about  the  example  your  young  friend  Macklin 
has  set  you." 


868  EGAN 

"  Example?  "  Kent  scowled.  "  That's  a  matter  we 
won't  talk  about,  Mr.  Perkins."  It  was  common,  and 
more  or  less  sympathetic,  gossip,  that  the  flight  of  his 
daughter  had  very  nearly  broken  the  Colonel's  heart. 
But  Perkins,  pitying  the  man  in  his  capacity  of  par- 
ent, had  little  compassion  for  him  as  a  mere  integer 
of  the  community.  In  fact,  it  was  nothing  but  the 
Judge's  conception  of  his  duty  as  a  lawyer  which  re- 
stricted him  to  the  carrying  out  of  his  client's  wishes. 
Even  now,  he  was  almost  inclined  to  fall  back  upon  his 
rights  as  the  executor  of  Old  Man  Egan's  estate,  and 
leave  mercy  for  other  people  to  practise. 

*'  I'm  afraid  we'll  have  to  talk  about  it,"  said  the 
Honourable  George,  lowering  his  tremendous  lashes. 
*'  You  see,  I'm  representing  quite  a  lot  of  diff^erent  peo- 
ple. I'm  the  executor  of  Old  Man  Egan's  estate,  and 
I'm  Bronson  Egan's  attorney.  I'm  Mrs.  McCain's  at- 
torney —  in  fact.  I'm  retained  for  Mrs.  Garrity  — 
Big  Bill's  widow.  I'm  representing  Little  .  .  .  er, 
John  C.  Jones,  also  an  Egan  stockholder.  I'm  rep- 
resenting the  combined  interests  of  Henry  C.  Penny- 
packer  and  seven  other  small  stockholders  who  also 
bought  stock  through  Macklin  from  the  Citizens  Trust. 
I'm  representing,  locally,  Mr.  Darragh  de  Lancey  of 
the  Industrial  Furlough  Section,  in  Washington.  I'm 
representing,  by  an  arrangement  made  yesterday  eve- 
ning, Mr.  Martin  Henderson.     Is  that  enough.''  " 

"  I  congratulate  you,"  said  Kent  dryly.  "  Your 
practice  seems  to  be  improving."  Nevertheless,  the 
mention  of  Garrity's  name  made  him  restive.  He  had 
been  hoping  against  hope.  "  What  do  you  seem  to 
want  from  me .''  " 


EGAN  369 

The  Judge  made  a  last  attempt  to  spare  him  the  bald 
recital. 

"  Do  you  need  to  ask?  " 

"  I  have  asked." 

The  Honourable  Greorge  drew  a  long  breath.  "  I 
hoped  you'd  see  for  yourself.  .  .  ,  Well,  I  guess  you've 
made  enough  money  to  last  you  awhile.  If  I  was  in 
your  place, —  mind  you,  this  is  man  to  man,  just  this 
part  right  in  here  —  if  I  was  in  your  place,  I'd  go 
South  or  somewhere  for  the  rest  of  the  winter,  anyway, 
and  look  around  from  there,  and  see  if  I  couldn't  find 
a  nice  spot  to  think  of  settling  in." 

Kent  grew  suddenly  crimson.  **  Do  you  realize  what 
you're  saying?  "  He  brought  out  a  cigarette  case,  and 
abruptly  returned  it  to  his  pocket. 

"  I  ought  to.  I'm  a  lawyer,  and  I  thought  it  over 
considerable  long  enough."  His  manner  altered 
slightly.  "  Kent,  I'm  only  making  a  suggestion  to 
you.  This  is  man  to  man.  You've  been  a  King-pin 
here—" 

"  I  am  yet." 

The  Honourable  George  disputed  it  with  a  backhand 
gesture. 

"  I  won't  argue  that  with  you.  .  .  .  I'm  still  speak- 
ing as  man  to  man.  My  unprofessional  advice  to  you 
is  to  be  as  calm  as  you  can  about  it,  make  what  ex- 
planations you  think  are  necessary,  and  shut  up  shop." 

Kent  lighted  a  match  on  the  underside  of  his  desk, 
and  absently  blew  it  out. 

"  Shut  up  — ?  " 

"  Retire,"  said  Perkins. 

The  capitalist  toyed  with  the  burnt  match.     "  I'm 


370  EGAN 

glad  your  advice  is  free,  Perkins.  I'd  hate  to  have  to 
pay  anything  for  that  sort  of  advice." 

"  I've  already  said  that  that  advice  was  as  man  to 
man.  Personally,  it's  immaterial  to  me.  Now,  on  the 
other  side  .  .  .  I'm  speaking  as  an  attorney,  now ;  I'm 
authorized  to  bring  action  against  you,  in  the  name 
of  Bronson  Egan,  and  several  minor  stockholders  in 
The  Egan  Company,  for  — " 

Kent  was  crouched  in  his  chair  as  though  to  spring 
at  him. 

"For  what?" 

"  For  staying  in  Plainfield  after  the  first  day  of  next 
month,"  said  Perkins,  mildly. 

The  capitahst  relaxed,  and  put  the  utmost  of  scorn 
into  his  voice. 

"Oh!  A  little  stuffed  club?  You've  forgotten 
yourself  for  once,  Perkins.  You  certainly  put  your 
foot  in  the  bucket  that  time.  In  law,  there's  a  name 
for  that." 

"  You're  mistaken.  And  I'm  not  making  any  threats. 
The  action'll  be  brought  anyw&y.  But  if  you're  out 
of  the  state  by  the  first  of  the  month,  I'm  afraid  you 
can't  be  brought  back.  That  shows  it  ain't  a  criminal 
case  —  if  you  didn't  know  it,  Kent.  And  I'm  instructed 
not  to  get  an  order  to  serve  you  by  publication.  I'm 
to  serve  you  in  person,  or  not  at  all." 

Kent  broke  the  match  between  his  fingers.  "  What's 
the  amount  of  the  claim?  " 

"  The  total  is  seven  hundred  thousand  dollars." 

"  That's  ridiculous  on  the  face  of  it !  If  a  reason- 
able compromise  — " 

"  /  can't  think  of  any  compromise  that  would  sound 


EGAN  371 

reasonable  to  Bronson  Egan.  Can  you?  I  tell  you, 
those  stockholders  are  mighty  generous  about  it.  And 
if  it  wasn't  for  Bronson's  feeling  about  prosecuting 
Mary  Kent's  father  —  and  you  can  take  it  from  me, 
that's  all  that  stands  between  you  and  serious  trou- 
ble — " 

The  capitalist's  face  was  suddenly  distorted.  "  You 
wouldn't  even  expect  to  win  your  suit,  and  you  know 
it." 

"  I  can't  agree  with  you  .  .  .  juries  these  days  aren't 
capitalistic.  And  The  Egan  Company  was  on  war  con- 
tracts. And  you'd  subsidized  the  Times  when  they 
printed  a  good  deal  about  The  Egan  Company.  And 
you  can  guess,  if  you  want  to,  what  sort  of  other  case 
might  take  a  start  out  of  this  action.  And  —  Eddie'll 
come  back  if  he's  wanted.  I  tell  you,  Bronson's  giv- 
ing you  a  chance  you  don't  deserve.  So  are  the  other 
folks.  It's  not  to  save  you ;  it's  to  save  the  reputation 
of  the  dozen  or  more  industries  you're  concerned  in. 
It's  to  keep  Plainfield  from  a  stench  that  would  carry 
from  here  to  the  Atlantic  seaboard.  It's  public-spirit; 
that's  what  /  call  it.  You  call  it  anything  you  want 
to.  And  by  the  Lord  Harry !  I  wish  you'd  stand  and 
fight !  "  His  voice  dropped  to  a  mere  whisper.  "  I'd 
love  to  try  that  case  myself,"  he  said. 

Kent  folded  his  arms  to  keep  his  hands  out  of  sight, 
and  gazed  out  of  the  window.  Until  today,  he  had 
cherished  a  faint  belief  that  money  could  buy  almost 
anything. 

"  What  assurance  would  there  be  that  your  clients 
would  relinquish  their  claims .''  " 

"  All  I  can  give  you,  legally  —  and  my  word,  morally. 


372  EGAN 

That  is,  they  won't  exactly  relinquish  'em,  but  as  I  said, 
I'm  instructed  not  to  serve  you  by  — " 

"And  —  publicity?  If  I  should  —  decide  to  take  a 
vacation?  " 

The  Judge  was  watching  him  narrowly. 

"  There'll  be  none.  That  is,  unless  .  .  .  oh,  Mr. 
Henderson  particularly  asked  me  to  say  that  all  the 
stock  of  the  corporation  that  bought  the  Times  is 
owned,  itself,  by  a  New  Jersey  corporation  —  and  he 
owns  all  but  two  shares  of  stock  in  that." 

Kent  turned  his  head  slowly.  "  That's  very  .  .  . 
interesting.  Am  I  to  take  his  word,  too?  You're  not 
offering  a  lot  of  security,  Perkins  .  .  ." 

The  Judge  flared  up  instantly.  "  You  can  count  on 
more  fairness  than  you  ever  gave  Bronson,  anyway. 
Man,  can't  you  see  when  you're  in  luck  ?  I'll  guarantee 
the  Times  will  print  whatever  notice  of  your  retirement 
you  care  to  write."  As  Kent's  eyes  flickered,  the  old 
lawyer  added :     "  Henderson  owns  the  Herald,  too.  .  .  ." 

The  capitalist  turned  again,  his  hands  clasped  be- 
hind his  head,  to  stare  out  of  the  window.  Perkins 
waited  patiently. 

"  So  you  think  I'd  better  retire,  do  you?  '* 

"  It  seems  to  me  sort  of  diplomatic." 

"  Diplomatic  .  .  .  yes,"  Kent  smiled  elusively. 
"  But  you'd  lose  a  thundering  good  fee,  then,  wouldn't 
you?  " 

"  That  doesn't  interest  me  in  the  slightest." 

"  No,  I  don't  suppose  it  does." 

The  Judge  ignored  the  sneer.  "  Henderson's  willing 
to  pay  you  the  market  valuation  on  everything  you  own 


EGAN  373 

here,  from  the  Citizens  Trust  to  Air  Traffic.  Espe- 
cially those  two." 

Kent's  forehead  gathered  a  suspicious  wrinkle  or 
two. 

"  Oh !  That  kind  of  retirement.  You  might  almost 
say  a  freeze-out,  mightn't  you?  " 

"  At  a  good  profit  to  you,"  nodded  the  Judge. 
"  Market  values." 

Kent's  smile  was  funereal.     "  I'll  think  it  over." 

«  You  have." 

"I  don't  quite  get  that?" 

The  Judge  articulated  very  clearly.  "  I  say,  you 
have  thought  it  over.  All  you  need  to.  It's  time  for 
action." 

"  You  certainly  don't  expect  me  to  make  a  snap  de- 
cision — " 

"  Unfortunately,  I  do.     Before  I  leave  the  office." 

"  You  expect  too  much." 

"  But  the  forms  for  the  last  edition  of  the  Times 
close  in  an  hour.  I  have  with  me  a  little  article — " 
He  produced  it  carefully  — "  all  set  up,  and  ready  to 
release.  You'll  observe  it's  just  a  preliminary  an- 
nouncement — " 

Kent  read  it  avidly,  and  seemed  relieved. 

"  I  see.  .  .  .  And  if  you  shouldn't  have  cause  to  run 
this,  I  suppose  you'd  run  something  a  little  .  .  .  what 
shall  I  say  .  .  .  rough?  " 

"  I'm  not  in  Mr.  Henderson's  confidence  to  that  ex- 
tent. But  there's  nothing  rough  about  this.  Just  says 
that  you  and  Luke  have  made  plans  to  turn  over  your 
holdings  to  — " 


374j  EGAN 

«  Yes,  I  read  it  .  .  .  oh,  Luke?  " 

"  I  thought  you'd  rather  take  it  up  with  him  than 
have  me  do  it,  wouldn't  you  ?  " 

"  W-e-e-1  —  And  we're  to  have  until  the  first  of  the 
month,  are  we?  " 

"  It  depends  entirely  on  how  much  you're  willing 
to  spend  on  your  defence  after  that.  .  .  .  By  the  way, 
Bronson  wants  it  specifically  understood  that  this 
doesn't  affect  Henry  Luke.     It's  only  his  father." 

Kent,  who  had  dreamed  of  power  far  beyond  the 
confines  of  this  single  city,  exhaled  softly.  He  knew 
Perkins,  he  knew  Henderson  —  and  he  knew  Egan.  He 
had  unlimited  confidence  in  the  power  of  the  dollar,  but 
he  appreciated  that  the  Henderson  faction  could  af- 
ford to  hazard  three  to  his  one.  And  he  knew  that  he 
could  never  expect  to  live  down  the  revelations.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  was  his  distinction  intact,  and 
his  fortune  unimpaired,  if  he  merely  drifted  out  of 
Plainfield  on  the  tide  of  discovery.  He  stared  out  of 
the  window  until  even  the  Honourable  George's  patience 
was  taxed. 

Then  he  dropped  his  arms,  and  swung  towards  his 
desk,  and  re-read,  twice,  the  typewritten  pages  which 
Perkins  had  put  before  him.  Conservative,  laudatory 
within  the  obvious  facts,  accurate  as  to  names  and 
dates.  .  .  . 

Without  glancing  at  the  Honourable  George,  the 
capitalist  flipped  the  typescript  across  the  desk.  He 
looked  very  worn  and  tired. 

"  Run  it,"  he  said.     "  I'll  see  Luke  myself." 


XXX 

EGAN  went  over  to  Dayton  on  the  slowest  snail 
of  a  train  which  ever  crawled  at  fifty  miles  an 
hour  all  the  way ;  and  a  thousand  times  en  route 
he  told  himself  that  if  the  airplane  had  any  human 
value,  it  should  be  used  exclusively  by  young  men  hurry- 
ing to  a  rendezvous.  The  only  relief  he  had  was  from 
the  perusal  of  a  letter,  written  twenty  words  to  the 
page,  which  he  read  every  ten  miles. 

"Dear  Mr.  Egan: 

"  I  arived  here  Thursday,  and  I  am  writeing  to  tell 
you  how  perfectly  sweet  FernclifF  is.  I  think  it  is  the 
loveliest  place.  Nothing  can  ever  erase  from  me  the 
thought  of  how  perfectly  fine  you  and  Judge  Perkins 
are  and  mother  to  let  me  come  here.  My  greatest 
wish  is  to  do  well  in  everything  and  I  am  in  love  with 
everything  already.  I  think  it  is  the  loveliest  place. 
My  room  mate  is  the  sweetest  thing.  Please  accept 
my  most  sincere  thanks.  I  think  you  were  perfectly 
■fine  and  Judge  Perkins  and  mother  to  send  me. 
*'  Cordially  and  sincerely  yours, 

"  MiLLicENT  McCain." 

It  was  half -past  five  when  he  arrived;  far  too  late 
to  call  at  Henderson's  oflSce,  and  infinitely  too  early  to 
call  at  Henderson's  house.  That  is,  without  first  tele- 
phoning. .  .  .  After  striking  a  balance  of  the  desir- 
abilities, he  telephoned  the  house,  and  not  the  office. 

Martha's  voice  was  rich  with  welcome,  but  it  also 
375 


376  EGAN 

held  a  precipitate  of  reserve  which  disturbed  him.  She 
invited  him  to  come  up  for  dinner,  and  to  come  at  once, 
and  her  invitation  included  the  statement  that  this  was 
a  simple  matter  of  course;  but  that  underlying  note 
of  insecurity,  with  its  almost  indistinguishable  hint  of 
complications,  caused  him  to  linger  for  a  moment  out- 
side the  telephone  booth,  even  after  he  had  promised 
to  come  with  all  possible  speed.  He  had  reached  that 
stage  of  a  lover's  mentality  at  which  all  things  become 
automatic  contradictions.  He  fancied  that  even  her 
invitation  was  meant  to  be  declined.  He  imagined  that 
she  said  she  wanted  to  see  him  only  in  order  to  tell 
him  that  she  didn't  want  to  see  him. 

An  avalanche  of  vague  potentialities  fell  upon  him. 
Having  arrived  here  for  a  set  purpose,  he  wondered  if 
he  ought  to  carry  it  out.  He  wondered  if  he  were 
too  early ;  he  wondered  if  he  were  too  late.  He  finally 
hurried  to  a  taxicab  with  all  the  apprehensions  of  one 
beset  by  ambiguity.  He  counted  the  street-crossings, 
and  cursed  the  traffic  rules  which  limited  the  speed  of 
taxicabs  to  something  less  than  the  speed  of  pro j  ectiles. 
Leaving  the  chauffeur  tipless  and  profane,  he  bolted  up 
the  steps.  There  he  debated  again  whether  he  ought 
to  tempt  Fate  or  not.  He  rang  and  fidgeted.  Waited, 
questioning  whether  to  ring  again,  or  to  fidget  a  little 
longer.  .  .  . 

Martha,  highly  flushed  and  very  lovely,  opened  the 
door  to  him.     "  Come  in,  come  in,"  she  said. 

Egan  still  fidgeted.  "  If  it  isn't  perfectly  convenient 
for  you  —  I  couldn't  quite  make  out  — " 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  she  assured  him.  "  But  maybe  it 
won't  be  so   convenient  for  you  — "     She   drew  him 


EGAN  37T 

through  the  doorway;  compelled  him  to  doff  his  coat. 
•From  hanging  it  in  the  little  closet  under  the  stairs, 
he  turned  to  behold  her  enveloped  in  the  big  kitchen 
apron  she  had  dropped  behind  a  hall-chair  when  she 
let  him  in.  "  The  cook's  left  and  the  waitress  has  the 
influenza  and  the  maid's  out,"  she  explained.  "  I'm 
doing  the  best  I  can,  but  — " 

Egan  was  flooded  with  masculine  compassion  for  a 
woman  compelled  to  do  a  woman's  work. 

"  Why,  you  poor  child !     You  won't  want  me  — " 

She  waved  him  gaily  towards  the  kitchen. 

"  I  can  stand  it  if  you  and  Father  can.  He's  due 
any  minute.  Come  on  out  and  help."  Obediently  he 
followed  her.  "  The  roast's  in  the  oven,  and  the  des- 
sert's ice-cream,  and  I've  made  the  salad,  and  I  was 
just  going  to  start  the  soup  .  .  .  it's  canned  .  .  .  oh, 
I  know!  You  can  set  the  table,  if  you  want  to.  Do 
you  know  how?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to,"  said  Egan,  stubbornly.  "  I 
didn't  come  all  the  way  over  here  from  Plainfield  to 
rattle  china  in  the  dining-room  when  you're  broiling 
out  in  the  kitchen  all  alone." 

"  It's  very  safe,"  said  Martha.  She  laughed  under 
her  breath.  "  I'm  not  afraid  to  be  alone.  I  could  call 
to  you  if  I  needed  anything." 

He  couldn't  exclude  the  tremor  from  his  voice. 

"  That's  j  ust  the  trouble.  I'm  afraid  you  might  not 
call." 

"  Well  —  suppose  we  both  set  the  table,  then  ?  " 

"  Now  that,"  said  Egan,  "  is  more  like  a  business 
arrangement." 

Accordingly,  they  went  about  it,  and  from  that  very 


378  EGAN 

moment,  a  sudden  cloud  of  excessive  courtesy  settled 
over  them.  Both  were  acutely  sensitive  to  the  unnat- 
uralness  of  it,  but  it  overpowered  them. 

"  Is  this  the  way  you  like  the  carving  things  ?  " 

"  That's  exactly  the  way,  thank  you.  .  .  .  Oh,  Mr. 
Egan,  would  you  rather  have  coffee  here,  or  in  front  of 
the  fire,  afterwards  ?  " 

Egan  gave  the  momentous  subject  the  benefit  of  seri- 
ous thought. 

"  Here,  I  think.  It's  less  work  for  you,  isn't  it? 
Only  —  why  so  much  formality  ?  " 

"  Did  I  call  you  ...  oh !  I'm  sorry.  I  meant 
*  Bronson.'  We'll  have  it  by  the  fire,  then.  I'm  sure 
we'll  all  like  it  better." 

"  It's  all  right  as  long  as  you  feel  guilty  enough  to 
blush  about  it.     About  being  so  formal." 

She  faced  him  indignantly. 

"  I'm  not  blushing !  I've  been  standing  over  a  hot 
stove.     Out  in  the  kitchen  it's  a  hundred  and  ninety  — " 

"  If  ...  if  it  makes  you  look  as  lovely  as  that,  I 
,i  .  .  I  wish.  .  .  .  Shall  I  put  on  these  big  goblets ?  " 

Her  words  were  carefully  measured,  but  she  was  los- 
ing poise  with  every  syllable. 

**  If  you  will,  please.  Now  we're  all  done  but  the  sil- 
ver. .  .  .  We'd  better  hurry;  Father'll  be  home  any 
minute  now,  and  .  .  .  I'll  get  the  knives,  if  you'll  .  .  . 
all  right,  you  get  the  knives,  then." 

Among  the  miscellany  of  the  dinner  service  their 
hands  touched.  Both  of  them  started.  "  You  seem 
predestined  to  do  housework  over  here,"  she  said. 
"  The  only  other  time  you  came  — " 


EGAN  379 

"  I  wondered  why  you  didn't  go  out  to  a  hotel  to- 
night." 

"  Father  has  to  spend  so  much  of  his  life  in  hotels. 
This'U  be  the  biggest  kind  of  a  lark  to  him.  And  I 
like  to  do  it,  really." 

"  You  wouldn't  if  you  had  to." 

She  didn't  look  at  him. 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  I  wouldn't." 

"  /  am."  Egan  stood  above  her,  and  Martha,  the 
self-controlled  and  ever  so  efficient,  had  a  moment  of 
great  inefficiency.     "  But  you  won't  have  to  —  ever." 

Sureness  was  eluding  him,  but  admirably  he  coun- 
terfeited it.     "  Put  those  things  down,"  he  said. 

"W-why?"  Nevertheless,  she  obeyed.  She  put 
them  down  half  way,  and  dropped  them  the  rest  of  the 
way. 

Egan  took  her  hands,  both  of  them.  "  I  can't  wait 
a  second  longer  .  .  .  dear,"  he  said,  unsteadily.  "  You 
know  —  don't  you  ?  " 

Sureness  was  absolutely  gone  from  him,  he  hadn't  a 
word  more  to  say.  There  was  too  much  to  express. 
He  hoped  she  understood.  For  the  very  life  of  him, 
there  wasn't  another  word  to  say.  Not  until  she  had 
given  him  some  sign,  some  intimation.  .  .  .  Standing 
there,  he  had  a  blinding  vision  of  the  years  of  vanity 
which  had  preceded  this  moment,  the  years  of  proud 
aggression.  Success  had  come  to  him,  self-esteem  of 
the  durable  sort  had  come  to  him  only  when  he  had 
learned  the  humility  she  had  tried  to  teach  him.  Such 
as  he  was,  he  was  of  her  own  making.  And  as  a  lover 
he  was  masterful  without,  but  very  humble  within. 


380  EGAN 

Slowly  she  lifted  her  head.  Those  lovely  eyes  of 
hers  had  infinite  tenderness  in  them,  infinite  timidity. 
She  lowered  them  for  an  instant  to  the  little  gold  pin 
in  his  knitted  tie,  and  raised  them  bravely  to  meet  his 
own. 

"  Don't  youf  "  she  whispered. 


TH£   £NI> 


A    000  129  550     o 


